


To both Defy and Define Darkness

by Shadowedcries



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - FBI, Behavioral science, F/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Poems, Psychology, Riddles, Rough Sex, Thriller, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowedcries/pseuds/Shadowedcries
Summary: “That hurt,” The feel of his voice against her ear sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Hot lace that trickled up her nerves, more inviting than her heart had ever hoped for. Tom laced his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck, then pulled until her neck arched up towards him. “It’s not nice to shoot the man who just saved your life, Hermione.”“It’s not nice to kill people, Tom.” She snarled in return.





	1. Prelude To darkness

**Author's Note:**

> OK, Let me start with this:  
> A huge, HUGE, thank you to the lovely miss weestarmeggie for being my beta! You don't know how much I appreciate it dear.
> 
> This is NOT a fluffy story, nor will it be a redemption. This story is gory, dark and all other things that come with that.  
> This will be my only warning simply because the entire story will be this way, so, please, come in with your eyes open.
> 
> On another note I love creative criticism simply because I use to it learn as I go, so please feel free to point things out to me.
> 
> This first chapter is simply a Prelude so it won't be as long as the other chapters.  
> I hope you enjoy!

_“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”_   
_  
_ _-_ **_Mary Oliver_ **

 

~*~

 

Beauty can be discovered in the eyes of the beholder. Each delicate brushstroke containing a series of unheard words. These were his brushstrokes. This was the magnum opus of _god’s_ unseen art.

“Last night I had her in my bed.” There is a darkness to the exhilaration dancing amongst his vocals. A tight curl of enjoyment ready to snap deep inside his soul. Beautiful and so very broken. “I wound my hot and tight clasped hands about her.” The sweetest of silks swept under his wandering digits. The sheer-white fabric framed her body lovingly and he admired the stitching that passed under his touch. “It fused her, body and soul, together with my own. Poured into her, my spirit, breath and strength.”

His lips curl dangerously once the fabric turned sticky and began to grasp desperately to his passing presence. Oh, how his insides swelled with pride. Magnificent beauty. The art of his own design depicted in the eyes of another. Pity the artlessness of the dress was beginning to soak up something so sinister.

The man made a slow circle around his creation, taking in any details of imperfection. Perhaps it was the way the body was propped against her chest that made him seek out defects.

The ever-watching imp, a man with no skin, who painted the pure woman red. No, he was mistaken, the scene was immaculate. It had to be. He would not have his masterpiece ruined by something as tactless as tattered muscles or empty eye sockets. No. Nothing had even been ticked, which was a feat in-itself. The imp’s screams were that of a siren’s, singing for the way it’s skin slowly peeled away from its body. He supposed the imp was considered a man once, but now he was nothing more than an image to be depicted.

Slowly his gaze returned to the woman below it. Her head dropped off the back of her bed and gave way to a cascade of red waves. She looked to be at rest, delicate in her purity. “Anyone who touches her now commits adultery and incest. She is mine, and I am hers.” She was the last to die. She begged for her husband’s mercy, simply because she was unable to listen to the imp’s wails. He allowed the dampness of her cheeks to remain; it left a pleasant glow against her frail skin; added to the story’s beauty. He had  chose to kill her softly, smothering the air from her lungs and watch passively as the light left her green eyes.

The abyss that once devoured him from the inside spread, reaching out for the sight of her cooling skin and like a hungry animal it absorbed the monstrosity of it all. “And have her I will…”

There came a whimper from space next to him and the man turned his cold blue eyes towards the tiny creature. It’s mother’s fingers barely brushing the edges of its mass of dark hair. The child reached for her, cried for her, but did not understand why she did not respond. The emptiness of the man’s eyes darkened at the sight of the tearful child. It would survive his presence, left behind with a darkness imprinted on his unconscious mind. Slowly he lowered to the infant’s level and absentmindedly brushed the fringe from its eyes. A smile slowly upturned the edges of his lips. He would have to keep an eye on the little beast, for he was suddenly curious to how he would cope. Would the images, in the mind of an infant, still affect the world around him?

Yes, watching the boy would become part of his great desig--

From his position the man caught a glow illuminating from the peripherals of his eyes. A distant shine from the floor beneath the bed. Rising numbers... _‘Call in process’._ His brows scrunched together as his eyes snapped towards the woman’s seemingly peaceful face.

“Don’t fucking move.” He felt the metallic click of metal and the firm press of it’s barrel before he had heard the Man, whom he could only assume was _the_ Sirius Black blinking mockingly from the phones screen.

He found himself laughing against the cold press of the gun. He, _Tom Riddle_ , had been bested by a woman desperate to insure her child’s safety. His cruel smile tightened as her peaceful features become contemptuous in the darkness of his eyes.

Clever witch.


	2. Forced Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the beautiful Weestarmeggie for beta'ing for me!  
> You're the best sweetie. <3

####  **_Chapter 1_ **

  
_“You can't study the darkness by flooding it with light.”_  
_  
_ **_Edward Abbey_ **

 

~*~

 

“So, would anyone like to tell me which famous sociopath was captured Halloween night, 1981?” Pushing his rounded glassed up the bridge of his nose, Harry Potter looked out into the crowd of students. Their hands stood eagerly in the air, hoping for their chance to be chosen. It was a highly demanded topic, as much as he _despised_ it, but he could only comply to the wishes of the university. “Yes?” Harry tossed his gaze towards a young girl in the middle row.

“Tom Riddle, sir.”

“And what is Riddle most known for?”

“Tom Riddle, also known to the public as ‘The Dark Lord’, was notorious for recreating famous paintings.”

“Good, Thank you.” Harry ruffled his unkempt hair further before turning towards the projector. A newly formed image began to engulf the white walls. It was a horrifying sight to behold, one Harry hated looking at, but did so anyway. With a heavy sigh he pressed his forefinger and his thumb into the bridge of his nose and attempted to ease the tension building there. “This is the murder he was caught committing that Halloween night. Can anyone tell me where the inspiration came from?”

“The 1781 painting ‘ _The nightmare_ ’ by Henry Fuseli.”

“Yes, thank you.” Harry could feel the anxiety begin to build in his chest, so deep that it squeezed the air from his lungs. He sucked in a deep breath and cleared his throat before changing the image. The murder side by side with the painting itself. It was utterly revolting. He hated this. He hated all of it. Grinding his teeth, Harry pressed the forward button, passing _picture_ after _picture_ of Tom’s _known_ work. “Each murder has its place and its own story, but even then Riddle was an enigma. His sense of work continues to remain different than the atypical sociopath. It takes a keen eye and open mind to notice it. Look at these images. What do _you_ see?”

A woman tiptoed her way through the doorway and glared up at his picture-flushed walls with more ire than necessary. He almost grinned at the way her rambunctious curls contrasted the pressed formal wear clinging to her skin. She did her best to look professional but, somewhere along the line, gave up on trying to tame the beast that was her hair. It took awhile for her gaze to drop, but Harry caught the worry glinting in her caramel eyes while she watched from afar. 

The hint of humor was gone as suddenly as it had come.

She sat back with a patience he had never seen in another person, dedicated to whatever cause she chased. She did not move as he prattled on about the event. She also didn’t move when the class was dismissed and began to filter past her.

“You don’t have to say it Hermione” he sighed.

“I know.” Finally, as if she had been awaiting his permission, Hermione moved from her spot. “Go home, Harry. Be with Sirius, be _somewhere_ other than _here_.”

Harry scoffed, pushing today’s collected papers into his briefcase. “Why, so I can spend another day pretending I didn’t have to spend the last two hours discussing the way my parents died?” 

“No, go home because you're _crashing_ Harry.” She sighed gently. Delicately her hand fell to rest against his tense shoulder. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Without nightmare, or slept in general?” His tone was laced in bitter sarcasm. The sound was harsh enough to cause Hermione’s lips to pull to one side and those hazel orbs to give him a disapproving once over. “Hermione please, I don’t need you fretting over me constantly.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “Go _home_ , Harry.”  She reached for the rest of his papers and swiftly tugged them from his grip. It left behind a burn upon his hands, a gentle tingle that felt foreign to his mind. When had he began to shut down? When had he become so lost that even pain was… alien? Her voice brought him back from the darkness of his soul, a skill that only she possessed. “Do not worry about these, I will insure your classes are handled. I would rather have you miss a few days of work than let you have another breakdown.”

Harry leaned back towards the desk with a frustrated groan. “I know.” 

“Then do something about it.” Hermione’s voice twinkled with the sweetest of chuckles before gently pushing him towards the door.

Harry waved his hand over his shoulder, like he was swatting away her motherly concern, “Yeah, yeah, I’m going Mione.” He could still hear her laughter chime into the distance, as he walked down the university’s empty halls.

He had not been sleeping, and he knew Hermione could practically smell it on him. The woman had the eyes of an hawk, and the intuition of a mind-reader. Pushing past the main door’s, Harry shuffled a shaky hand through his hair and groaned. The world was beginning to gaze around his eyes, slowing to an unnatural ticking of the clock. He was so tired. Absently he began questioning whether or not he could actually make it back to his house.

Digging into his pockets hastily, he began looking for his keys. His gaze skittered about his person, watching as his tiredness left him drunk and unknowing. With a sigh Harry brought his eyes up towards the sky, hoping to drown out the sleep with the sun’s rays, but instead he stopped on a peculiar sight. 

A man with greying auburn hair… was leisurely leaning against the door of his car, waiting patiently for Harry to notice him. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, you must be Harry.” The man said, reaching out with an open palm, his soft blue eyes sparkling under half moon glasses. “My name is Albus, and I was hoping to steal a moment of your time.”

“Depends on why you need it” Harry hesitated, before allowing the older man to take his hand.

“It is a matter of great importance, Mr.Potter.” Albus sounded like a man tied down by years of stress, and in that very moment, the frown on his face settled into the deep worry etched there, “And, I am afraid we cannot do it without you.”

 

 

~*~

  


 

Hermione’s fists clenched together in fury. It burned like growing embers, deep, hot and never ending. She was staring down at the front page of the morning’s news, and she could swear her chocolate eyes were trying to burn a hole through the paper. 

There, on the front page stood a very disturbed looking Harry, leaning against the porch of an old house, trying not to be sick. One, _Albus Dumbledore,_ was standing next to him with a firm hand on his shoulder.  

That son of a _bitch_.

Hermione had nearly toppled her chair over in her haste. She had told him _months_ ago to leave Harry alone. She had explained that he was unstable and that bastard had overlooked her warnings? Hermione felt ready to enter a screaming rage when she snatched her coat from it’s hanger and stomped out of her office doors.

How _dare_ he. How dare he come into _her_ department and harass _her_ employees into working for him? Not just any employee either, he had to come waltzing in and demanding help from her _best friend_ after she had openly denied him the right to see Harry?

If that was how Dumbledore wanted to play, than he was going to have _quite_ the rude awakening.

Hermione never thought she could shake with so much anger before. Her mind, one normally bustling with brilliance, had logic being swallowed by the demon known as wrath. A sin that never tasted so sweet before. She embraced that sensation the whole drive to the FBI. She was a flare of adrenaline rushes and furious shouts before it blended into a dangerous quite. Each step upon those ridiculously well-polished floors was met without strain, in fact, she was positive people had purposely avoided her path.

She had not stopped to knock, her fist clenched onto the knob for the door dedicated to the Agent-in-charge of the BSU, Albus Dumbledore, and the door thundered when it came crashing against it’s awaiting post, destined to cause destruction the moment it left her hands. Her heels clicked against the floor as she forcefully entered the room. It only took a moment for her to take in her surroundings. The room was littered with pictures of his current case; Plot boards and possibilities for each murder. Then her dark eyes met the daring blue of the man who sat in the middle of it all.

“Miss Granger, how lovely it is to see you” he said, flashing a kind smile. Hermione bit her tongue at the notion. He knew she was on edge. He _knew_. “I assume you have read this morning's paper?” 

She scoffed bitterly at his half-hearted attempt at humour. “What the _hell_ do you think you are doing?”

“Why, Miss Granger,” he replied, seating himself straighter in his chair. She watched those aging fingers laced together on his lap so nonchalantly that it hurt. “I believe I am doing my job.”

“No, you are getting Harry to do _your_ job” she spat in return. “I told you to leave him be, Albus. He did not pass the mandatory examinations for a _reason_!”

“No one can do the things he can do, Miss Granger” he said, smiling softly at the notion, “So forgive me for not taking your concerns into the equation.”

“He is going to break, Dumbledore, Harry does not have the-”

“Hermione?” Her heart slammed into a sudden halt in her chest at the sound of Harry’s voice behind her, “W-what are you doing here?” The quiver in his vocal swayed her rage to curl softly into her chest. He was alive, but the sounds he spouted were chipping like old paint and her ire became worry.

“I believe the better question here, Harry, ” Hermione said making a slow turn towards him, the darkness of her eyes stern compared to the nervous green of his own. “Is, why are _you_ here?”

“Hermione, please don't, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”  Harry crossed his arms stubbornly and frowned at her attitude. “I am only-”

“Perfectly. _Capable?_ ” It was a hot whisper of disbelief. She could feel her skin warm anew from the wrath blooming under her skin. Small fists tighten and untighten, before finally reaching into her purse for a particular rolled piece of parchment. “You call _this,_ ” She tossed the paper at his feet, watching as he absorbed the picture of himself puking sitting on the front page, “ _perfectly capable?”_. His skin paled the longer he looked at it “Harry James Potter, you look me in the eyes and tell me you believe that to be true.”

“Hermione,” he started and she gave him props for the determination to actually look her in the eyes, even if hesitantly, “They _need_ me. The things this person is doing, the things that happ-” He stopped abruptly and looked away from her, not out of disgust, but because he was afraid of what she would see in his eyes.

She saw it anyway. “I have _always_ admired your bravery, Harry,” she swallowed, brown orbs slowly closing in frustration. She had to force herself to ignore the quiet gloating of Albus Dumbledore behind her. Righteous bastard knew how to pull Harry’s heartstrings; Walking the boy into that crime scene had all but sealed his fate. “But, sometimes you can be really thick. This is your _health_ you are ignoring. These murders can be resolved Harry, _they_ can right this wrong”  She hastily gestured back towards the man silently watching their exchange, “But they will _never_ be able to right you if _you_ become wronged.”

“I know, Hermione” Harry sighed, “but, please… Let me do this.”

Hermione was silent. Her eyes scraping across his worn features. He hadn’t been sleeping again. His hair was dull and his cheeks were sinking. She couldn’t help but grit her teeth. Harry had become invested in this case, tossing his heart into the bloody mess of it all. “Fine” she all but bit out, “But, if I find _any_ kind of reason, Harry Potter, then I _will_ storm this building and take over this case. Do you understand me?”

“Perfectly.” Harry all but whispered in return. 

Discussions like this were meant to be examined carefully. Hermione, of all people, knew that better than most. The messages were found in the details, small whispers of the future that changed _everything._ When it came to Harry Potter, she often gave leeway to his wishes. Her heart always clenched after witnessing the determination buried in that emerald gaze. She would give in this time. She would watch his progress and she would wait until she was needed.

And, somehow, Hermione already knew that she would come to regret it with all of her being.


	3. The Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the wonderful Weestarmeggie who continues to Beta for me. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the newest instalment.

### Chapter 2

 

‘ _Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.’_

 

**_Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man_ **

  


**~*~**

  


Harry sat heaving in the empty room. The scent of blood seeped into his skin and lingered like an ugly scar. His mind demanded release, It wanted to run. It screamed between his ears with a sound so deafening that it made his vision blur. His mind could not handle it much longer. Hermione was right - he was snapping.

Slowly the green of his eyes sought out the room. The divergence of it astounded him. He could hardly keep up with this killer. Their mind was chaotic, unorganized… the epitome of madness. There was nothing he could do to further examine this place without it taking a toll.

The riddles on the walls were painted with blood, chipped and cracking. Dark and twisted things that made little sense.

 

_A nightmare for some, for others a savior I come. My hands cold and bleak but it's the warm hearts they seek. What am I?_

_What am I?_

 

 _What am I?!?_  

Harry nearly screamed, his fingers began to claw at the base of his skull, his nails digging deep enough to make the skin bleed.

“Harry?” Dumbledore slowly approached his side, his hand lowering with the intent of comfort.  
  
“Don’t” He hissed. “Don’t touch me, please. I _can’t_ do this Albus. This person… their mind doesn't make sense. _None_ of it makes sense.” Harry tossed his hands into the air, his eyes scrutinizing the audacity of it all.

“Harry, how willing would you be to get a second opinion?”

Slowly raising a brow Harry thought over the question. He was determined to help. He wanted to help more than _anything_ . His heart slowed enough to track each sound. Getting a second opinion could lead to growth. It could lead to a dead end and it would still get Harry further than he currently was. “If you think their opinion could help.”   
  
“He is the type of man to know things before anyone else.” The elder man began. There was something in his voice that made Harry tense, as if the thought was almost helpless. “It is a matter of whether or not he would choose to speak with you.” 

Harry didn’t know it, but Dumbledore was positive this _particular_ man would take far more interest in Harry than need be. Seeing as it was the man, himself, that had orphaned Harry.

  


**~*~**

  


“Harry?”

He snapped into place with a deep inhale. Green eyes widening from the sheer shock. He had nearly fallen asleep at his desk. Hazily his gaze wandered over the curly haired woman standing next to him, her warm skin standing out in the brightness of the room. “Sorry,” his voice was lethargic; heavy and tired, “I must have… dozed off.”

“Why are you not at home?” Her deep brown eyes lowered with worry. She could see the darkness lingering over his shoulders, nearly as dark as the bags hidden under his eyes. Something was _wrong_ , so very wrong, for him to seek sanctuary at the school.   
  
“Oh,” Harry tossed a half smile at her, trying poorly  to hide the exhaustion in his face, “I can’t keep dumping my job on you, ‘Mione.”  He tried to joke, but it came up empty.   
  
“Harry, please” She said, lowering herself to his level, her eyes pleading for his safety, “Talk to me, I can help.” Sinking her hands on either side of his face, Hermione pulled Harry up to completely face her, “You _know_ I can help.”

“I can’t do that to you, ‘Mione” He sighed, the faux humour slipping from his tone. He knew she would see past it. He could never fool her.  
  
“Yes, you can Harry” She scolded, pulling her hands away like the idea offended her. “Stop pushing me away!” 

“I’m sorry.” Harry pushed himself to a stand, his eyes cast down wards as he gathered his things, “But that's something I can’t and _won’t_ do, Hermione.” 

He left her there, alone, leaning against his desk. Her face struck by the abruptness of his dismissal. This was something he had to do alone. So, with each determined step, Harry convinced himself that he could do it. He could face this head on. Just like he had faced all of the murders of his past. Like he faced his parents every other day.  
  
He would look Tom Riddle in the eyes and do what he had to.

 

 **~*~**  
  


After years of studying Tom Riddle’s work Harry felt like he stood a good chance against the man. He knew Riddle’s ins and outs. He knew every detail of the crimes Tom had committed, every story behind his ‘works of art’. 

Tom grew up in an Orphanage. Specialists often debated on the theory of whether or not he had been abused there. The place was said to be vile and was eventually forced to shut down. Tom’s father had been a wealthy man who ignored his existence. He had nothing, so the boy found his _own_ way. School paved the road to success with his brilliance. He graduated early and became the youngest person ever to be admitted to medical school. 

A surgeon with a Psychiatry degree. It gave him power and status; An orphan boy who turned his life around. He became a man of culture building  his life from the ground up reveling in the luxury of it all. Tom’s _mind_ gave him access to anyone and his _power_ gave him access to everything else.  

The walk into the asylum that housed his parents murderer, felt like walking into the depths of hell. His skin flared uneasily as his footsteps echoed across the stone floor. His breath hesitantly trembled through his airway. There were no words, no logic, to keep the panic at bay. _Nothing_ could have prepared him for this moment. No amount of knowledge Harry had built under the man. Idea’s had no place when you were about to look _the_ Tom Riddle in the face.

The room was all white washed walls, not a speck out of place. The immaculate single person bed was bolted down in the left far corner. When Harry paused at the glass wall, he felt his entire body freeze into place; Jaw slack and mind blank. The man on the other side of the glass was _nothing_ like he had imagined. 

Tom Riddle leaned back against the bed’s steel frame with uncaring eyes that danced rapidly across the page of an open book. He lazed on the floor, propped upright against the bed’s frame, yet his aura projected the epitome of grace. He did not bother to acknowledge Harry’s presence. Harry could not help but acknowledge his.

It was as if Tom had done nothing but stand still in time’s presence. Twenty five years in prison had done little to his person. Fifty five years old and his skin had not grown any frailer. The smooth porcelain only marred by the smallest of crow’s feet. His wavy hair, barely, dusted with salt and pepper along the sides of his head. He was still all strong cheekbones and thick of jaw. _Still_ a paragon of male beauty housing the soul of a monster.

“It is rude to stare.” He spoke slowly from his corner of the room. His voice was slightly muffled by the sheets of glass but only enough to add a sense of mystery to the tone of it. 

Harry jumped, his heart rebooting from the shock. “I… oh, my name-”.

“Do not bother speaking further, boy.” Tom said lazily before flipping to the next page. “I have no intention of being Albus’s walking encyclopedia to pick and prod for information.”

Harry’s found himself without words once more. He had been dismissed and he had barely opened his mouth yet. His jaw set with determination before he decided to completely ignore the man’s dismissal. “Dr. Riddle, my name is Harry Potter.” There was a flash of something in the man’s eyes. _Recognition_. “Please, I only ask for a minute of your time.”

“Potter,” The corner of Tom’s lips curled with the drawl of his name. “My, my, such an honor to be visited by the ‘ _Boy who lived’_.”

Harry grimaced at the title, bestowed so graciously upon him by the public. A name given to him because of actions of this very man. “Dr. Riddle, I came to ask for your opinion on an investigation. Dumbledore tells me that they have already informed you of the case in question.”

“I see. Albus sent you to me like the sacrificial lamb for slaughter.” Laughter vibrated off the walls, ringing dread into Harry’s eardrums. “Tell me, _Harry_ , how have you fared since our last encounter?” 

“Better than you, _Doctor_.” The words tasted like sour copper on his tongue. His teeth pressed together, forcing his jaw to swell against the skin. Harry’s breath was heavy fire in his lungs, forcing him to seek a slow inhale. 

“So you say and yet,” The blue of Riddles eyes fell on him, scrutinizing every inch of Harry’s person with a gaze heavier than stone, “Is that a quiver in your fingers I see?”

“I am not afraid of you.” Harry pressed, his back tightening with frustration.

“I would not dare to insult you so, Mr. Potter,” Riddle chuckled as the book dropped lazily onto his lap. “No, your hands tremor for the same reason you have a slight slur in your speech. A-barely-there whisper of a _gasping_ mind.” A monster flickers to life, a maroon reflection in the darkness of Tom’s eyes, “your skin is pale and waxy. The dark circles under your eyes are growing large enough to garner concern from those close to you. Do you hate it Mr. Potter, despise the way they scrutinize your health?.”   
  
“Stop it-”   
  
“Tell me, Mr. Potter.” Tom continued, speaking over him like thunder silencing the rain fall. The morbid humour in his tone would have had the world tremble under its sound if it was a possibility. “Does the darkness follow you back into the land of the living?”

“This is not about _me_ Dr. Riddle.” Anxiety began rising in Harry’s throat, forcing him to choke past the words. “This is about gaining your assistance on a case.” 

“Yes, This ‘ _Death Eater_ ’ the papers have been raving about. Curious little spectacle isn’t it?” Tom raised one knee high enough for him to rest his arm upon, while the other hooked over the edge of the bed. “I hear they love _riddle’s_.” 

“Yes.” His words were quiet, almost frightened to raise further. “I am eager to get another perspective on the matter and Albus insured me that you might be able to help me to get past the block I am currently experiencing.”

His handsome features shifted curiously, watching Harry with a newfound interest. “Are you a profiler?”

“I teach behavioral science.” He stated boldly in return. He was beginning to find a braver ground, determination outweighing his anxieties.

“A teacher?” Riddle rose from the floor with the grace of a regal cat. Smooth, slow movements that pressed him forward. The smile upon his face though was far from comforting, twisted as it was with abhorrent fascination. “What a pity, Mr. Potter. Unable to pass mandatory examinations?”

“I hardly see how that matters.” Before Harry could release his breath, Tom had pressed his hand into the glass wall and leaned down far enough to look Harry in the eyes. Harry had not realised that the man towered over him. He felt like the grass beating against the foundation of a stone wall. _Inferior_. Tom Riddle’s presence screamed intimidation. 

“Oh, it matters.” Tom cooed. “How close does your mind take you to the reality of these murders?” His Cheshire grin widened at the boy’s silence. He knew. In that minute Harry _knew_ that Tom Riddle had already wrapped his personality in a pretty little bow, only picking out the flaws and laying them out on a platter before him to dissect further. Tom knew what it would take to break him; It was a horrifying thought. ”Tell me, what is it like to look into my mind and see what is inside, Mr. Potter?” 

Harry stumbled away from the glass, his heart thundering like a drum against the cage of his chest. Looking into the mind of Tom Riddle was not something he wished to do. He didn’t want to know what lingered in the darkness of that red-tinted gaze.

Panic began to seize Harry’s heart like a burning tingle growing beneath his skin. His mouth dried almost instantly, forcing Harry to swallow thickly. It was devouring him whole. He hadn’t even attempted to see into Riddles perspective, but it was like his essence had reached out for Harry from behind the glass, seeking to taint his very skin with the tar that was Riddles soul.

A cold sweat began to trickle down Harry’s brow as his stomach lurched violently. He had been wrong, so wrong. Nothing could have prepared him for the monstrosity that was Tom Marvolo Riddle. His breath all but seized in his throat. He had never stood a chance, what was Dumbledore _thinking_ sending him here?

“Run little boy. Run.” Riddles face darkened with a triumphant snarl, “Your _nightmares_ are catching up to you.” 

Harry could not agree more. Tripping over himself, he turned his back on Riddle and retreated from the asylum. Away from Riddle. Away from the darkness the man brought out in him.

He didn’t look back.

 


	4. What am I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A huge, HUGE, thank you to the lovely miss weestarmeggie for being my beta, I adore you dear! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for all the Kudo's and Comments. I love hearing from you guys! 
> 
> Enjoy the newest chapter :)

### Chapter 3

 

“ _We can only learn so much and live.”_

- **Thomas Harris, Hannibal**

 

**~*~**

  
  


Hermione woke to a sound rising above the rain. It took her a moment to realize that it had not been thunder but a fist thrashing against her door frame. Her heart lurched into her throat as she threw the covers from her body. She found herself ignoring the fact she was only wearing lacy underwear and a loose button up shirt. The sound vibrating off her front door was more important the her state of undress because only one person would be daft enough to show up at her door in the middle of the night.

Bounding down the stairs, Hermione felt the fear trickle into her veins, spilling further with each slow torturous pump of her heart. Her body nearly slammed into the door in her haste to open it, hands fumbling for the doorknob. Then, yanking the door free of it’s locks, the curly haired woman prepared for the wreck that undoubtedly lay beyond it.

Harry stood, leaning feebly against the frame of her door. His skin was soaked in the sky’s tears. He had not looked up to meet her panicked gaze. She found the shiver overpowering his body like a dark song echoing across his skin and her heart had all but stopped in her chest at the sight of him. He was so broken. He had hit his limit somewhere in this investigation and had not reached out for her until now.

“Harry?” When her voice caught his ear, he found the courage to looked up at her. Tears, though hidden under the waters of the rain, trickled down his cheekbones. She jumped into action, one arm hooking around his shoulders as she pulled him into the sanctuary of her home. She let out quiet hums, drawing his mind a to a safe state. “It is okay, I’m here now. It’s okay.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if the words were more reassuring to her or to him but Harry remained silent, allowing her to correl him into the living room. She sat him down, her fingers tracing across his face with worry, “Hold on, let me find you something to wear.”

Digging through his dedicated box, Hermione found some pajamas pants and a soft blanket for Harry to warm up in. Over the years she’d learned to leave some of the man’s clothes in her home. He came to her in times of need, never in the best of state. As much as she disliked the position, she was the light tower at the edge of his raging sea and the hand that returned him to water’s surface. She _always_ had been. 

He had not moved when she returned, encouraging the ping of worry to bite down against her heart. It had never been _this_ bad before. “You need to get out of those wet clothes.” A sigh bubbled up from Hermione’s chest when he did not move to take the pants from her. Pushing the sleep ridden hair from her face, she drew closer to his side. He would not be moving anytime soon at this rate. Lost to the world in his mind, wandering in the darkness and unable to find his way home. She could help him. She always did. “Alright, lift your arms.” 

Hermione’s warm hands brushed against his cold, damp, skin. Gently removing Harry from his wet clothing, pausing only to dry his skin as she went. Making slow work of dressing him, she used the opportunity to search for any physical signs of distress. Thanking the heaven’s that there had been none to find but the empty depths of his emerald eyes brought worry to her heart.  
  
When she had finished she remained knelt in front of him, her brown eyes searching his face for answers. “Harry?” Her voice was a quiet thing, a peaceful weapon to draw him into the safe haven he found most comforting. “Harry, I need you to look at me.”  

Hesitantly those lost green eyes fell upon her face, and something returned to him. “Hermione?” His eyes darted across the room, taking in his surroundings with a new interest. “How… how did I get here?”

The smile crossing Hermione’s face was one of sadness. He was returning to her, the mind making slow rolls toward the present. Using her thumb, she brushed away the water from his cheeks and replied as gently as she could. “That doesn’t matter right now.” Bringing the towel to his hair Hermione gave it a hearty shake, her smile turning into something more encouraging. “Let's get you to bed, we can talk in the morning.” 

Harry did not hesitate to slip his fingers between her own, squeezing to reassure himself that she was real. She was there. It hurt to know that he had to make sure of such things. She saw the slight distrust of the situation flicker across his mind a like a forgotten dream. So void of hope that he almost believed that, she too, was beyond his reach.

Her heart gave into the palpitations of her fears. He was stable enough to have come seeking her, at least there was that. She smiled softly as Harry exhaustively flopped backwards the moment he saw her bed. He bounced against the mattress but his eyes never left the ceiling above him. “I’m sorry Hermione…”

“Harry, do-”

“No.” His voice was void, a quiet whisper in the darkness of the night. It rang dread into the drums of her ears. He had never sounded so…so... empty before. What had Dumbledore done to have gotten Harry into this state? “I should have asked for your help sooner. The more I deal with this case the more I realize that I cannot do it without _you_.”

Hermione remained standing next to the bedside, close enough to him that the outer half of her thigh brushed against his knee. She was not surprised to learn that he had every intention to return to working with the FBI, but he came here to insure that he could. To beg her to help him through this. A sigh slowly released from her lungs before she allowed herself to speak. “What are you asking of me Harry?”

His hand came to cover his face with a defeating laughter. “I am asking you to be you?” He sounded so unsure of himself. “To be the overbearing, _know-it-all_ that takes over when I fail, to be the one that holds up my pathetic ass when I can’t find a reason to myself.” His voice was all bitterness and humour. A morbid mix that should never co-exist. “Please… just make it stop.”

A hush trickled past her lips as she laid a welcoming hand against his thigh. Hermione knew, long ago, that she was the supporting beam that held Harry Potter in place. The glue that kept his mind in it’s correct places. The light in the world of his endless darkness. It had been a role she had willingly accepted. Hermione had been the only person who did not pity him for the events of his life, only seeing the lonely boy who needed someone to hold his hand. She saw the life behind his eyes and sought to bring it forth from the place it hid behind.

“I will _always_ be here to pick your ass up when you fall,” her lips curled softly, coaxing something warmer from his heart and hoping to plant the blooming hope back into his mind. 

The twitch of a smile gently enveloped his face while the rest remained hidden behind his resting hands. “Hermione?”  

She hummed in reply, her thumb making soothing circles above his knee. Her layered brown eyes remained soft against his face as he slowly dragged himself into a seated position. His face remained just as empty as it had when she found him on her doorstep, the quirk of his lips lost the dark nature lingering behind his green eyes. She remained silent as his jade-coated gaze danced across her face.  

When his one arm snaked around her waist Hermione had expected his embrace. Fourteen years she spent in blissful ignorance to his friendly behavior. Humorous flirtations that had no place outside of friendship. He teased her about her hair, she teased him about his taste in glasses. Together they shared the darkest of secrets and found confidence in the friendship they had build in each other.

She had _not_ expected his free hand to gently grasp her jaw while his lips sought out the comforts of her own. The breath in her lungs was stolen by the way his gentle caress tightened, his arm all but hauling her onto his lap. She would be lying if she said it had no effect. A delicious tingle prickled against her skin. His skin was still damp, and she had made the brilliant decision to leave him shirtless. The situation left a dangerous contrast between her skin and his.   
  
Biting back a groan, Hermione pressed her hands into Harry’s shoulders. Urging him to pull back and actually look her in the eyes. Relief began to sink into her shoulders as she felt him shift under her. A hair's breadth from his hungry lips was all she needed, he would listen to reason if she spoke to him. He was projecting instability onto something he could handle. Something that would feel better than whatever darkness he was currently _trapped_ in. Shock jolted through her veins when Harry, instead, flipped her onto her back. Calloused hands locked down on her wrists before returning to plunder the decadence of her mouth. She sucked in an involuntary gasp at his actions.   
  
This was worse than _anything_ she had ever experienced with Harry before. He was an _introvert_ . He wasn’t the kind of man to take control, let alone take advantage of _her_. 

Her mind reeled when teeth sunk into her lower lip, drinking in her cry of shock and diving in to taste what lay behind her lips.

It all sunk in then. It wasn't like _him_ at all... because this was something else. _Someone_ else. His subconscious, somewhere in its delirious state, felt the need to project this _person_ because who better to navigate the darkness than someone who lived in it? 

“H-harry.” She gasped against his ruthless touch, his mouth cushioning the sounds into a muffled tone. He took it as an invitation to move away from her lips. Instead his nose began making sweet, torturous, circles against her jaw. “Harry, stop this is-” Her words cracked with a yelp that sounded more aroused than intended. His teeth had sunk into the skin below her ear while the rest of his body made a rugged grind against her own. The lack of clothing between them made this worse than it should be.

Hermione thrust her chest upwards trying to regain the man’s attention. “Harry, stop. You are only doing this because you are trying to find grounding.”

“I am doing _this._ ” He growled against her skin, the vibrations sending her nerves into a fury. “Because I have thought about doing nothing else for years.” 

“Harry James Potter.” Hermione snapped loud enough to make him stiffen against her. “You are avoiding your problems by trying to replace it with something else. You are better than _that._ ”

“What if I do not _want_ to be better than that?” His voice was heavy in her ear, breath trickling down her neck in a way so intimidating that she had never thought possible. Not from him. Never from Harry.   
  
“Remember, the first day we met?” Softly she spoke, easing the words into his mind and heart. She shut out the sight of him, let the darkness take the surface of her vision because it was there she would find him again. “You didn’t like me very much. I was nothing but the _know-it-all_ who had nothing better to do with her time then overachieve. Then one faithful day you heard me crying in the girls bathroom while Greengrass spat profanities at me.” His breathy laugh against her neck brought a smile to her lips. “And you, quiet Harry James Potter, walked right into the girls bathroom and-”

“Told her off for being an utter troll.” His shoulders shook with humour, strong enough for his forehead to dip against her shoulder for comfort.  
  
The grip on her wrist loosened enough for her to drop her hands into his hair where she began slow, comforting strokes through his dark waves. “She was so mad that she went straight to the teachers.”

“You took the blame for me.”

“I will _always_ be the one to catch you when you fall Harry.” The brown of her eyes gently returned to look down at the peaceful aura slowly returning to his own. Breath weaning into something quiet and at ease. “Even if that means I must fall first.”

“Mio-”

“No.” She leaned up to place a kiss upon the crown on his head, her smile wide. “No apologizing, no feeling bad. We are just going to crawl up this bed, get under these covers and go to bed. Okay?” The room fell into a quiet hum, one where he did not speak nor move. No he was fighting something internally. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Later, when Harry had settled himself into the crook of her arm, face pressed into her chest and arms curled around her waist, Hermione found herself staring into the darkness of her room. The sound of his peaceful breath easing from his lungs gave her a sense tranquility. She wondered how close she came to losing him this time… and how long it would take to lose him again if she let him return alone.  
  
Next time he walked into a room with Albus Dumbledore, she would be right there next to him.

 

~*~

  


Harry woke with a start when the sun beamed down on him like a raging force. The back of his eyelids flared like a red flame, burning against his sleep deprived eyes. He had slept like the dead, so deep that it was like he had not slept at all… but it had been quiet. No nightmares. It was like tasting freedom. No darkness singing to him with a siren’s nightly promise, just sweet utter abyss that surrounded him the scent of…  
  
“Hermione?” Harry’s brows pulled together as he tried to make out the room around him. This was definitely Hermione’s. Her room, her house, but _his_ safe haven. Two fingers began massaging either side of his throbbing skull, pressing the pain to the side in order to fish for the memories of last night. He had blacked out after seeing Riddle. “Hermione?”

Emerald eyes danced across the bed sheets to find it used but empty. She had slept next to him at some point in the night, but she must have woken up before him and moved herself downstairs. His body pressed itself out with a stretch, pulling a few months worth of tension out from his bones. Each crack sounded like music to his ears, it had been too long since his body felt so at ease.

Migrating out of the bed, his feet made soft strides towards the stairs. “Hermione?”

“In the kitchen!” Her voice danced across the empty hall, almost instantly lifting his spirits. He could hear the warm trickle of her tone and the distant thrum of music in the silent background. He knew her too well. He can already see her, dressed in whatever she fell asleep in, weaving around her kitchen and cooking. A laugh swelled in his chest as he made his way down the stairs and into the heart of her home.  
  
His smile widened as he found just that waiting for him. “Good morning.”

Humour hummed as she turned to him with a pointed look. “Good _afternoon._ ”

Harry came to a skidding stop, his heart welling in his throat. “A-Afternoon?”

“Yes,” She turned to him with bright eyes, the spatula flipping between her fingers eagerly. “Sit down, I already have some crepes ready.”   
  
His stomach practically screamed in hunger at her words. Sirius had been an awful cook, Hermione and her family quickly filled that void once they entered his life. After the encounter that led to their friendship she began bringing little treats to show her thankfulness. She never did stop. On days he found himself low there would _always_ been some kind of fresh baked treat waiting on his desk.

“Hermione, I need to get to work. I’m already late.” He found himself trailing off when she placed a full plate in front of him, her brow raised and daring him to challenge her. Harry breathed out an exasperated breath and snagged the fork off the bar counter in front of him. “Fine, _fine_ I will eat but than I really have to leave.” 

“Good.” She grinned saucily before spinning herself around. “You eat, I’ll go get ready.”

“Get ready?” He had not hesitated to speak around the food in his mouth. He had not realized how hungry he had been until that first bite hit his taste buds. When was the last time he had eaten? “Where are you going?”

“WIth _you_ .” He could only stare as she blew a fuzzy curl out of her eyes and plated the last crepe. “So, you enjoy your meal and I will be right back.”   
  
Harry nearly choked on his food. The burn pressed through his nose while he coughed and  tried not to spit the food back onto his plate. Panic was already to threading itself through his veins. Come with him? She was planning on _joining_ him to go see Tom Riddle? What on earth had he told her last night that made her toss herself into this crazy battle beside him?   
  
Harry groaned as his head fell forward into the comfort of his awaiting hands. It was true that she might be able to handle Riddle better than he could, but could Harry handle her being in that man’s prescenes? Watching Riddle toy with her mind just like he had played with his own?   
  
The chirp of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. Harry turned in a hesitant manner, finding the phone sitting on the pile of fresh, and neatly folded clothes. There was no hurry to his pace when he made his way over to the singing contraption. He honestly hoped they would hang up before he lifted the phone to his ear. They did not. “Hello?”

 _“Harry,”_ They voice on the end belonged to Dumbledore, making the man cringe internally. This could not be good news. _“I hear you didn’t make it to your appointment this morning with Riddle.”_

“No.” Harry cleared his throat as he found the words to be dry. “Sorry, I slept in by accident.”

 _“No, no, I am sure you needed the rest,”_ He answered, _“We can rebook for later this evening, I am afraid our efforts will be needed elsewhere this afternoon.”_   
  
“Elsewhere?” The fear set in anew. No. This call was definitely not good. A tremble set itself upon his skin, desperate for it not to be what he dreaded it might be.   
  
“Yes, I am afraid there has been another murder.”

Harry kneaded his fingers into his brow. He had never been to a fresh crime scene, the two he had visited had been old and already processed. He couldn’t. Than his mind perked. No, no he could because Hermione was coming with him. He could do this. He could survive this as long as she stood next to him. “Okay, where am I going?”

 _“I will send an escort to come get-”_   
  
“I am not at home, You will have to send them to Hermione’s.” Harry quickly interjected.   
  
Dumbledore was silent for a long while, making Harry worry. He wouldn't keep Hermione was attending the crime scene, would he? “Very well, I will insure she has the proper credentials.”   
  
“Thank you, sir.”

 _“Harry, you must promise me one thing.”_ The man pressed sternly from the other side of the line. _“She cannot interfere with your efforts, you will not let her pull you from this case.”_   
  
Harry nodded even though the man could not seem him doing so. Emerald eyes darted towards the staircase, gazing the directing the soft patter of water echoed off the walls. She had to be there… no matter what. He couldn’t continue this without her anymore. “Understood.”

  


~*~

  


Hermione had not been pleased by the turn of events. She had expected paperwork, working through the files and getting down the information. Not being tossed head first into a fresh crime scene. Her brown eyes traced Harry’s fallen features worriedly. The body would still be present. The blood fresh. The _true_ horror of the crime could not be hidden this time around.   
  
He had yet to take a step into the home, he stood next to her on the front doorstep with distress in his eyes. Then, with one slow breath in, he adjusted the gloves concealing his hands. She began picking apart the pieces of him that showed signs of crashing, needing to keep a close eye on the signs if they continued to fester.   
  
The first thing that hit her when they walked through the door, was the metallic tang fumigating in the air. Hermione had spent time on crime scenes before, acting as a specialist, the smell was something she had learned to adapt to but she could not help notice the queasy stumble in Harry’s chest. It was not the best reaction, but it was better than him puking.   
  
People were sweeping the room, cameras flashing with a speculating chatter. Dumbledore noticed their entry and moved to greet them. “Harry.” The kind smile was a cunning lie of security. “Come, you will find the body this way.” The elderly man gave Hermione a pointed look before leading them the direction of the main scene.   
  
A woman hung limply in the center of the room, thick steel chains bolted into the ceiling kept her from falling. Black hair concealed her face, like a curtain to hide the horror in her milky gaze. The look alone spoke in volumes. Slow. Painful. Her death was not merciful. The killer was sadistic in nature. No feeling of remorse or hesitation. Psychopath rather than Sociopath. 

Gently Hermione's eyes traveled down her naked flesh. The skin of her chest had been peeled back and the ribs had been cracked open. Hermione could only assume the woman had been awake for most of this, the killer seemed like the kind that would prefer the victim to know exactly what was being done to them. It would have been slow. The killer would have taken their time and insured the victim remained conscious for the ordeal.   
  
With a sigh she turned away from Harry’s side in order to take in the rest of the room. He needed the space in order to pull himself back together and actually get an understanding of this killers process.

  
She paused, mid step at the bold spread of red words sprayed across the wall. _What am I?_ Hermione’s head tilted in question. Was the killer mocking them or was there more to this? She began searching the rest of the room looking for the rest. This was deliberate, just like each cut placed on the victims. There was reason behind the madness. There was one sentence that made her brow raise in question. It stained a plain white door, that possibly lead to the basement. She was not disappointed by what she found hiding on the other side of the door.

 

_Oh, for me he'll obsess_

_I speak of thee of course_

_I hide behind the words_

_Speak not within but without_

_I'm always inside of you but never in me_

 

A riddle. Hermione hummed with curiosity as she picked apart the words .It could be taken both figuratively and literally as the body had been cracked open. The killer had definitely been _inside_ of her. She had no doubt that they would find something interesting during the autopsy. 

“Intriguing, is it not?” Her heart leapt into her throat at the sudden appearance of Albus by her side. His voice did nothing to ease that stress he so graciously placed there.  
  
Hermione pressed her palm into her chest, attempting to ease the thundering of her heart. “Are these at every crime scene?”   
  
“Yes, here,” the elderly man hand held out a large file for her too look at. “I figured these would be the first thing you questioned. I made sure to bring the files containing all of them just in case.”   
  
“Thank you.” The file felt like an open flame in her fingers, an itch she could not wait to scratch. She thumbed the page edges, forcing herself to ask more questions before diving head first into the work. “They discover anything of value, yet?”   
  
“I am afraid not Miss Granger, this is why we so desperately needed Harry’s help.”   
  
Hermione held back the scoff building in her throat. Incompliant, that’s what they all were. There was a reason he choose Harry specifically, despite his particular skills, there was _something_ else the man was after. She was not fooled by his shimmering grey eyes or his kind smile, behind the mask was a man willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to achieve what he needed. “I will give these a look over and tell you if I see anything.”   
  
Hermione stole a glance towards Harry, who was following the footsteps of the killer. It was interesting how he could pinpoint each movement and discover the purpose behind each step. It took its toll, you could never step into a killer's shoes yourself and walk away clean. With a sigh she forced herself to look away. 

Her worry would not help him.   
  
Pictures flashed into her mind when she opened the folder. Each time the riddles had been painted with the victim's blood. Other than the _‘What am I’,_ none of the riddles were re-used. The riddle itself was only written once, somewhere hidden and least expected. Hermione flipped through the pictures. Eyeing each question with interest.   
  
One particular picture was enough to make one brow raise.   


_A nightmare for some, for others a savior I come. My hands cold and bleak but it's the warm hearts they seek._

_What am I?_

 

“You are ‘Death’. Real original,” Hermione scoffed in realization before stuffing the picture back into the stack. Brown eyes lifted to the door, watching as the flashing of camera’s caught the morbid image. “You stepped up your game, why?” She turned quickly, “Hey, Harry…” the words died on her tongue when she discovered the area empty behind her. Fear began to extend into her limbs, pulling at her digits like a cold grasp.   
  
“Harry?” She began scanning the crowd with a drawn brow, but she already knew. He was not present. Not anymore. “Albus!” Her hiss thrummed over all the voices surrounding them. The elder man turned to her with a knowing smile. The bastard _knew._ She had no doubt that he had _personally_ pointed the direction for Harry to run. “Where is he?”

  


~*~

  


Harry was practically kicking himself. Why had he come back to this god forsaken place? Was it really just to look the devil in the face? He swallowed dryly and forced himself to make that dreaded walk to his cell. It was worth it. There was some questions that had to be answered.

“Well, well.” A dark chuckle emanated from the opposite side of the glass when Harry stepped into it’s view, “I was almost certain I had frightened you away when you did not show up for our little get together this morning. I was _so_ looking forward to the company.”

“I found myself behind schedule, new crime scene,” he said dismissively. It was not a lie, it just wasn’t the complete truth either. By the look on Tom’s face, Harry was almost certain he knew that already.  
  
“Is that what had you running back?” Tom moved himself closer to the glass, his hand folded neatly behind his back as he gave Harry a quick once over. “Sleep well?”

Brows narrowed with irritation, there was no possible way Tom knew that. He was brilliant but brilliance did not give the ability to use telepathy. “Dr.Riddle last time I was here you immediately pointed out the riddles used by the killer; until this afternoon I did not realize that, that” he said pointedly, “particular information, was not common knowledge.” Harry’s head dipped to the side. The curiosity burning deep down in his belly. “How is it that you knew?”

“How indeed.” The morbid darkness in Tom’s laughter was hard to miss. The sound itself sunk into your bones where it would linger like a disease waiting to fester and spread. “There is a contrast between you and the man I witnessed leave this asylum yesterday. The spark behind your eyes and a sudden strength to your words. Makes me wonder who put it there Mr. Potter, it certainly wasn’t you.”  
  
“Dr. RIddle.” Harry could hear the growl in his own voice. The man knew how poke at the weaknesses of his control. “How did you know about the riddles?” 

Had Harry been paying more attention he would have noticed Tom’s eyes flicker towards a rising sound. The quick and determined stride of an oncoming soul who flared like a rising flame. “I first took notice in the papers.” His voice deliberately slowed with each word. “There had been a _‘what am I’_ painted in the background, the very sign of a riddle at work.” 

Harry watched as Tom’s head tilted to the side curiously, his eyes cast down the corridor as if waiting for something to show itself. His brow rose slowly as he followed the man’s gaze, than he nearly choked on the sight. Hermione was not more than a few feet away from him with a fire blazing in her dark eyes.

“‘Mione.” He couldn’t hold back the stutter of surprise. She was here. She had somehow found out exactly where he was and _actually_ followed despite knowing the risks- knowing who it was Harry was coming to see.

“ _Never_ leave me behind at the crime scene again.” She snarled under her breath, low enough that it had been meant for his ears alone.   
  
“How unprofessional of you Mr. Potter, abandoning a lady in such a place.” Riddle tsked humorously. “Did your guardians not teach you _manners_?” 

“Did yours _doctor_ ?” The absolute challenge in Hermione’s tone nearly gave Harry a heart attack. She was purposely provoking one of the most dangerous men known to behavioral science. Her chocolate eyes bore down on him with disdain, while Tom returned the look with a frighteningly quiet anger. It was like watching two opposing forces of nature building up between them. Hermione flared to life like a flame, but Tom was the heart of a hurricane.   
  
_No_ , Harry thought, nothing good would come as a result of the interactions between Hermione Granger and Tom Riddle.

  



	5. What I have Forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely miss weestartmeggie for being such a doll. Don't know what I would do without you, sweetie.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the new chapter. Our first HermionexTom interaction! Are you all not just so excited? I know I was excited. ;)
> 
> Until next time my loves!

####  Chapter 4 

_“People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid_

_facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by_

_imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”_

**_-C.G. Jung, Psychology and Alchemy_ **

 

~*~

  
  


The heaviness in her dark caramel eyes was unflinching. She stared him down in a manner no other had done before, at least, not after they had discovered his morbid little secret.

It was not a look of overconfidence, the presumptuous sneer of someone who truly believed they were _safe_ on the other side of that glass wall. No. In fact, it was a look most of the security personnel took pride it. _Naive_ little creatures, that truly believed that harm would not befall them. They did not understand the dangers of their arrogance. 

But _this_ was different. _She_ was different because she was simply uncaring of his nature. No interest in his person. No interest, just simply factual. Taking his words as they were and not as they could be. It was almost fascinating, but also entirely _infuriating_. 

His eyes fell to her person, drinking up the information as he went. Her straight back carried pride, a pride to which she did not include her personal aesthetic. Unruly tight curls shoved into a bun that threatened to snap free at any moment. Her face nearly bare of makeup or other daily products. No. This woman had no care for her looks. She took pride in greater things. _Stronger_ things. Things that belonged to her professional attire. 

Behind her eyes layed a force unwilling to bend, especially not to him. 

Tom’s head tilted to the side in question. One elegant brow rose as his gaze flickered towards the Potter boy. There was worry carved into the boy’s face, but also admiration. She mattered to him. Tom returned his gaze to the woman, reevaluating her presence. She was protective of the boy, like a mother bear standing in guard to protect their cub.

 How utterly _precious_.

“It was _you_ .” The words flew like a purr from Tom’s vocals. The flinch pressing past the boy’s nerves was validation enough. This, _woman,_ was the creature that put poor, little Potter back on his feet again. The woman who personally fixed the cracks in Potter’s psyche and in a single night, no less. 

Impressive enough. Very few knew how to undo his work.

She did not reply, nor did she acknowledge Tom had even spoke. Anger flared in his chest, like a storm flashing across the sky. He was a sign of impending danger, and she was _ignoring_ him. She moved to Harry’s side, brushing off the boy’s shoulders before giving him a pointed stare. “Never again, do you understand me?”

“‘Mione, you really did not have to come. You are the one who can help out at the crime scene, not me.” The boy sighed, annoyance clear on his words but there was also more to it than that. The underhanded note of a deeper emotion.

“I already did my job there.” She sniffed in return. “Besides, you forgot the files.”

Tom watched curiously. Their tones of speech were familiar, obviously they had been friends for many years but, what interested him, was the fact that both interactions were different. The boy’s was hopeful and ready to please under that _chummy_ tone. While his ‘ _Mione’_ was far more safeguarded, her friendly nature tucked away behind barricades and professionalism.

Tom almost chuckled at that notion. Poor boy was ignorant of her obvious yet well chosen words, it made him wonder if she always held him at arm’s length, or if someone had managed to change that. 

“If you two are about finished.” Tom drawled, leaning his shoulder onto the glass, his lips curled in a dangerous manner, “I have better things to do than watch you banter.” Harry’s playful nature fell and those emerald eyes turned into jade blades against Tom’s skin. The boy moved to open his mouth when the woman silenced him.

“Yes, forgive us for wasting your time Doctor.” She turned to him with that indifferent song sweeping from her lungs. Her words were a bitter weapon that she knew how to wield expertly. Tom hated her already. “These files contain everything you will need to know about this investigation, if you choose to help us on the matter that is.” 

“Make it worth my while.” Tom rumbled softly in return.

“And, how do we do that?” Harry replied hesitantly.

Laugher danced across Tom’s chest. A deep, hollow amusement that had no place on his tongue. “I thought you taught profiling, Mr.Potter.” Tom raised a slow mocking brow at the bow. “Use that brain of yours, I am sure something of use will come from it.”

A sigh pressed from the woman’s chest as she shimmied out of her coat. A frightened shock bubbled across the boy’s face at that moment. It was laughable to think that the boy would possibly think she would show a little skin for Tom’s co-operation. She was not dumb enough to even fathom that possibility.

“Hermione, what are you _doing_?” 

 _Hermione_. 

Tom grinned as she ignored the boy in order to dig through a beaded bag, searching for something with a determined grace. Than in a instant it all changed, that distant gaze dropped the moment her hand clasped around the intended object. The smile on her face was a form of sweet bliss. For Tom to discover that this affection was due to a book… Well, It was like seeing the pieces of her click together in a wonderfully organized manner. 

She was an _anomaly_. 

She returned to her feet, her eyes dancing from Tom back to the book with a hesitant distaste. He watched her chew the corner of her lip while staring down longingly at the cover. “I understand that you appreciate literature, Doctor.”

Tom sniffed mockingly at her words. “I have no interest in your romance novels, woman.” 

Her eyes narrowed in a monstrous dislike. “ _This,”_ she snarled, “Is a first edition copy of ‘ _The book of Urizen’_.” She pressed the book closer to her chest, her fingers clutching it’s edges in an attempt to snuff out her anger. The look on her face was glorious, that the well placed spurn to her intelligence was something that truly mattered to her. “Do not insult my intelligence by assuming I underestimated yours, Doctor.”

Tom stared down at the cover. His heart slowing in his chest at the sight. A _real_ book, a thing of real taste and not the ridiculous drapple this fucking institute keeps providing him. His fingers twitched with need. Then Tom’s mind reeled with possibilities but he chose to remain unchanging to this revelation. He raised a questioning brow at Hermione. She seemed to have him pegged out, pulled apart his weaknesses just as easily as he had pulled apart Potters.

“How did _you_ get a first edition copy of ‘ _The book of Urizen’_?” He almost wanted to doubt her. what lower classed woman went out of her way to spend thousands on a book. It was simply unheard of.

“Everyone has their little _thrills_ , Doctor.” She lifted her head in challenge. The rest of her words were unspoken but her eyes spoke louder than she could ever know. It amused Tom knowing she was mentally picking apart his _little thrills_. 

She knew.

She knew he doubted her intellect and was unafraid to call him out on it. So she was meeting him at every mental battle, pushed him off stable ground any chance she got. It was riveting, it had been too long since he had last been challenged by someone. Even longer since he believed the person to be worth his efforts. So, he pushed _back_ . “ _‘For he strove in battles dire, in unseen conflictions with shapes bred from his forsaken wilderness…_ ’.”

Euphoria passed through his skin when she continued without missing a beat. _No_ question. No _doubts_ . “ _‘Of beast, bird, fist, serpent and element. Combustion, blast, vapour and cloud.’_.” 

“Very well, _Hermione_ .” Tom make a slow stride toward the extrange cubby at the end of his cell and waited. “ _I_ will assist in this investigation as long as _you_ continue these exchanges.”

“Hermione, wait-”

“Deal.” She said, her determination overcoming the distress of Potter’s voice.

Satisfaction settled into Tom’s core, burning under his skin since the moment she cut the boy off. The _boy_ who had caught onto Tom’s wording. The boy who knew _exactly_ what Tom had tricked her into agreeing to. “ _Perfect._ ”

Hermione opened her half of the cubby, gently placing the book along with the casefiles inside. “Sorry Harry, but somethings are more important.”

The boy looked away harshly, jaw expanding in a frustrated grind. It was delightful to watch him struggle. “We will leave you to it then, Doctor.” Harry growled before taking in one deep slow breath and looking Tom in the eyes once more.

Just like that, Tom realized one _sinful_ little detain. Harry accepted her wishes far too easily for it to be nothing. Yes, he practically bowed to her will and still managed to stand strong at her side. In that very, damning, moment, Harry moved to lead Hermione away from the glass cell, Tom put together the last of their pieces. Harry Potter was drowning in desires, desires that kept his best friend on constant guard. 

The boy who lived was in _love…_ and it was delightful. Tom could not help but want to _destroy_ it.

 

 

~*~

  


 

When Harry found Hermione the next day, she was sitting cross legged on her living room floor. A net of horror, a spiral surrounded her in a sprew of crime scene photos and notes. His back met the edge of her wall. He could only watch in a worried manner at the way she lost herself to the pages. Her pen scratched notes into the papers on her lap as she idly flipped through the case files. 

Riddle’s deal was screaming like a cancerous fester in the back of his mind. He had made a deal for Hermione to keep up _exchanges_ in return for his help, but he never specified what kind of exchange. Hermione had been sharing things about herself before Riddle presented the idea, and _that_ is what worried Harry the most.

“Hey, ‘Mione.” He spoke softly, insuring not to startle her. She always got sucked into her work and forgot about the world around her.

  
She turned to him, pencil caught between her lips. Her hair, once held together in a bun, hung from it’s confines to invade her sight. “Harry!” The pencil fell from her lips with the sound of her gentle voice. 

He coughed back laughter at her state of dress. A light fabric hung loosely over her frame while a pair grey leggings hugged her legs. Other then putting on pants, she had yet to change out of what she had obviously slept in. Harry coughed in order to recover from his amusement.. “How is the case treating you?”

“It’s been good, I actually would like your opinion on-” She paused to blink rapidly at what Harry had clutched between his fingers. “Is that coffee?”

“Maybe.” He grinned.

“You dared to go get coffee,” she continues with exasperation, “And you dared to enter my house without bringing me any?” Hermione looked up with a mocking pain, her hand pressed against her lips to hide her grin. He adored her sense of humour. “You are a cruel man, Harry Potter.”

“Well,” He chuckled and moved closer to her circle of chaos. “If you weren't so enthralled by your work all the time, then _maybe…_ just maybe, you would have noticed that I put yours on the kitchen counter.” Harry chucked when her warm skin brightened and a laugh bubbled from her lips. She lunged from her position and made haste towards the coffee awaiting her. Harry laughed even harder when she turned to give him a pointed stare. “What did you want my opinion on?”

“Oh!” Hermione pressed her baggy sleeves back up her elbows. “I want to run some of these riddles by you. It’s just...” Harry watched a sigh lower itself from her lungs. Her eyes tired from overthinking, and perhaps a lack of sleep. When it came to work Hermione always lost herself. His eyes flickered softly as she made a slow stroll back to the circles of pictures. “It just seems like the killer picked up their game.

“What do you mean?” Harry moved to join her. His eye tracing the lines of her back through the light material of her shirt before he come close enough to catch her eyes.

“The first set of riddles,” her voice was strained, frustration running deep. “They are simple, easily solved, then…” She trailed off into her own thoughts, making Harry shake his head.

“They get more difficult after that.” He ventured.

“I just don’t understand why,” Hermione groaned. 

Harry all but flinched when she turned to lay her head against his shoulder. His mind had not been the same since the night he had first met Riddle. The memory was still blank but the physical manifestation of it haunted him. His body knew something he did not, and it frustrated him to no end. 

Blowing a few strands of her bedridden hair out of his face, Harry forced himself to take another look at the picture. Taking in the scenes and the differences between the two. Then his eyebrows scrunched together. The change was on two different scales, as if the killer first made it simple for simple minds… but then. “They changed because it was meant for someone who could actually understand them,” The words left his lips without him truly knowing they had.

He felt Hermione pull back hesitantly before snapping her gaze back down. “Holy shit.” 

Harry looked down at her, his brow raising at her sudden outburst. “What, what’s wrong?”

“Harry.” She looked up at him with something he could only describe as concern. “The riddles changed after Dumbledore assigned you to the case,” her words dawned on him like a brush of cold wind on his back. Slowly his eyes drifted back to the pictures, his heart swelling in the base of his throat, “they changed because they have been _watching_ you.”   
  
Harry pulled himself further away from her, further away from the pictures and their madness “That…” His head fell into a slow shake, “but, why?” 

“They know you can understand them, perhaps not their riddles, but their personality..” Hermione began a slow circle over the pictures. He didn’t want to know why anymore. It was too real. “They know you can step into their shoes… and _understand_.”

“I don’t understand!” Harry bit back angrily. “I don’t _want_ to understand!”

“Harry,” She paused with a quiet whisper. Harry caught the hurt in her eyes, and instantly regretted his choice of tone. “Perhaps you should take a step back for a while.”

“No, no.” Harry moved to pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Harry, at least be more cautious.” She moved away, dragging her feet in slow sweeping movements in order to reach her counter. “Maybe inform Sirius about this little revelation, he will insure your safety.”

“Can I…” Harry sucked in a heavily breath. The air seeped into his skin with a reassuring breath. He needed his grounding. “Can I just stay here?”

Hermione became stagnant at the counter, her finger twitching against the coffee in her hand. “Of course.” The smile she turned towards him was slightly unsettling in its stiff nature.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, sorry.” Harry watched as her face brightened in a kindness he found familiar. It eased that worry in the pit of his stomach.  “I just worry about you.” She turned away from him again - the mysterious memories that haunted _him_ , were replaying like a dark haze in the back of Hermione’s mind. This worry was about his action. 

This was a worry of what might become of them if it _ever_ happened again.

  
  



	6. About you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss weestarmeggie, I absolutely adore you for being my beta! You leave me with the biggest grin every time you read over my chapters.
> 
> I am in awe of all of you wonderful readers. I honestly did not think that this story would have as many Kudo's and comments as it does. You guys have been inspiring me to continue writing as much as possible, so thank you everyone! :D <3
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the newest chapter!

###  Chapter 5

 

_ “When you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.” _

_― **Sarah J. Maas** , **A Court of Mist and Fury**_ ****

  
  


_ ~*~ _

  
  
  


Hermione’s knee bounced impatiently while they sat in the FBI coroner’s office. As she had suspected,  _ something  _ had changed and that  _ something  _ had been found inside the victim's body. None of these things were expected of the killer. There was no documentation that stated they had ever placed something into the bodies before. The Killer was evolving as the case continued and they were struggling to keep up with the killer’s growth.     
  
Her gaze lifted when Sirius and Dumbledore rushed into the room, their features set into disturbed glowers.   
  
Harry turned to her with a concerned look, before reaching down to assist her from the seated position she’d found herself in. She smiled up at him and took his hand before she followed the distant figure of Harry’s godfather. “I didn’t know Sirius was working on this with you,” she whispered, leaning closer into Harry’s side.   
  
“He’s not.” Harry replied hesitantly.    
  
The worry in the pit of her stomach grew and her brows furrowed together. What could have made Albus Dumbledore call upon Sirius? Did he not already have a lead investigator on the case in Harry?   
  
The first step into the bright room blinded their eyes. The burn of stainless steel and white walls making her nerves scream in protest. Hermione squinted hard, trying to shut out the source of strain. Though, the sensation settled quicker than she would have liked when the victims figure fell into her view. The image of the woman’s body laid out on the cold table was enough to end any sense discomfort Hermione experienced. This woman had been forced to endure hell and her eyes had been open to witness the horror of it all.

 

“Albus.” An older gentleman drawled.

 

“Severus.” Albus returned softly, his gentle blue eyes twinkling with curiosity. “What is it you called us in for?”

 

Hermione had heard all about Severus Snape before, he was a master of forensic pathology as well as a brilliant chemist. His personality, on the other hand, was not one to be cared for. He had history with Harry’s mother and -  Hermione stole a look at Sirius who stood scowling at the dark man, eyes full of hatred and blame. Well, it seems like he did not have a great history with the  _ rest  _ of Harry’s family either.

 

Severus shot a scrutinized glance towards the extra members of the group before returning his attention to the body. “While I was searching for the exact cause of death, I happened across an interesting detail. It seems like it had been overlooked in the last examination.”

 

Hermione moved  herself into a better position to watch Snape’s fingers press down into the heart of the victim. Her brows rose as fingers began to skim a well sutured line. The heart had been  _ opened _ then reshut sometime during the attack. Hermione’s head fell the side with question before she returned her gaze to the broody man.

 

“Your killer left behind a message.” Severus said before he snagged a scalpel off a steel table.

 

“We already know that the killer leaves messages,  _ Snivellus _ .” Sirius snapped in retort. Shock rattled through Hermione’s nerves, her eyes widening at the tone of Sirius’ voice. She had gone most her life ignorant of Sirius’ darker side. Until she began specializing in behavioral science she had honestly believed that he was just a happy man. She learned quickly that Sirius hid his anger and pain behind humour… but knowing that meant that there was something about Snape so hateful that Sirius could not use humour to mask it.

 

“I am  _ obviously  _ speaking of another message,  _ Black _ .” Severus glared up at Sirius while he reopened the woman’s heart.    
  
The slick sound of an object being removed from flesh rattled around Hermione’s brain like an unwelcome knock of insanity. She cringed knowing the sensation of being so close to darkness- the sensation of dead meat sticking to those latex gloves, was like tar clutching to your skin and the sickening echo of suction rattled the woman’s empty chest. With a shiver Hermione’s eyes caught up with her mind, forcing herself to witness the moment he placed a small bundle of flowers down on table next to him.

 

Two flowers made up the bundle. One was a rose, just a young bud curled and waiting for a bloom that would never come. It was morphed, it’s bulb spawning with the tendrils of a thick moss, spiking and twisting into a wild beauty. The second flower was a beautiful shade of purple that blended and shined against the night sky. It’s petal’s reaching out into a star, proclaiming its heritage with a frightening pride.

 

“Fascinating.” Albus mumbled softly, his elderly frame leaning closer to examine the flowers.   
  
“Flowers?” Sirius bit out. “Why the fuck would they sow flowers into the victim's heart?”   
  
“I would  _ normally  _ call this a signature,” Severus drawled, his cold black eyes staring down at the broken woman with little remorse for what had happened to her. “But due to Slughorn’s incompetent examinations nothing was recorded on the matter. I am afraid there is no other evidence to suggest if flowers has been left in any of the other victims.”

 

“Slughorn?” Harry chimed in quiet question.   
  
“Yes, Mr. Potter,” Snape drawled, the sound of Harry’s name somehow managed to sound like venom on his tongue. “Slughorn has been removed from this investigation due to his  _ mishaps  _ of late.”   
  
Hermione found she could not remove her eyes from the small bundle. The image protested at the back her mind with the sweetest of whispers.  _ This  _ is what the riddle mentioned, It was only there  _ because  _ the riddle said it would be. It was like the killer was throwing a rock in their path to see whether or not they would crash. The killer remained well read up on them, paying attention to their coming and goings. They knew this new information could cause doubt… especially with Slughorn's recent dismissal.  “It’s not a signature.” Hermione spoke before realising she had.   
  
A particular rigidity overpowered the calm of her nerves when four sets of curious eyes fell on her, waiting for her to speak.

 

“Well, Ms. Granger.” Snape snapped, his impatience sharp enough to cut. “You already interrupted, it is best to get the rest out now before you feel the urge to do so again.”

 

Hermione’s brows narrowed while his insult sank into her skin. She hated people like him. Scrutinizing and presumptuous, looking down that beak-like-nose of his at anyone who may be of worth. Tear them down before they can stand up. Hermione felt the anger rumble around in her chest. She suddenly could not believe she once considered asking him to lecture in the school. This man should never be allowed around young minds. She could not imagine what would have happened if he had chosen to become a teacher.

  
“It is  _ not  _ a signature.” Hermione repeated with a growl. “Because, the  _ riddle  _ stated that the killer put something inside of her.”   
  
Albus moved passed Sirius, coming closer to Hermione and the flowers. “Please continue, Ms. Granger.”

 

A sigh slithered it’s way from her lungs and pressed frustration to the forefront of her mind. “Their riddle clearly states,  _ ‘ _ _ I hide behind the words. Speak not within but without. I'm always inside of you...’. _ ” Her arms crossed under her chest before she turned her gaze towards the resting flowers. “The flowers are speaking behind the words because they are ‘ _ within’ _ the body. The killer put them in there because they will  _ help _ answer the riddle.”

 

She watched as Harry took a newfound interest in the flowers, his bright green eyes dancing over the  damaged petals and trying to place their importance. “What kind of flowers are they?” Harry turned back to Hermione with a near demanding tone.   
  
Unfortunately, Snape cut in before Hermione could open her mouth. “The purple flower is Deadly Nightshade, the second is a Moss Rosebud.”   
  
Hermione wanted to snap at the man. His attitude towards her had been nothing but deplorable since she first spoke. “I will get back to working on the riddles,” She turned towards Dumbledore with a indirect nod. She disliked her position in this investigation. She was this little accessory they, so far, constantly scrutinized and used. Ignorantly they claimed any of her thesis’ as Harry’s rather than her own. Dumbledore should thank the heavens that she was there for Harry and not  _ them _ . “Thank you for bringing me in to witness this development.”   
  
“Of course, Ms. Granger.” Albus smiled softly. “Do keep in touch if you find anything of value.” With that blatant dismissal, Hermione turned to leave the room the same stiff way she had entered.   
  
“Hermione,” She paused at the sounds of Harry’s voice trailing after her. The determination in her stride falling into the clutches of hesitation before she turned to look back at him  “Hermione, wait for me-”

 

“Harry.” Both of them turn to capture the dark tone in Sirius’ voice. His warm features giving into the stern burrow of his brow,  “You and I need to speak.”   
  
Hermione watched as Harry’s shoulders twitched and tightened. Sirius rarely took on such a grave expression, and when he did it was never a good thing. Harry had not been speaking to Sirius, he had been hiding out in her residence any time he had the chance. The thunder of Sirius Black’s anger would have dawned upon Harry eventually. He had only put off the inevitable.    
  
Hermione chuckled before giving Sirius a small wave. “I’ll talk to you boys later, do try and be kind Sirius.” Harry cringed at her words before turning back to his godfather.   
  
“No promises, Kitten.” Sirius’ reply was cold but understandable. He loved Harry like his own, for him to have discovered that Harry was risking his mental health must not have been the best awakening.    
  
Hermione frowned at herself, she should have realised Harry had not told Sirius. He wasn’t going home for visits and she had caught him asleep at work more times than she would care to admit. With yet another frustrated sigh, Hermione left the area in hope of gaining more insight to this case.

 

~*~

 

Hermione had spent the rest of her day probing the pages of riddles, the newest ones being the main focus, for the even smallest of hints. The words had begun to blur against her warm caramel eyes while her mind had settled into a pleasant hum. She had to stifle a giggle as she began mapping anagrams through the riddles. The idea was utterly ridiculous but she had started drinking wine some hours ago and had almost finished the bottle, so obviously she had found reason enough to pursue the idea.

 

Sinking lower into her couch, Hermione dropped her notepad off to the side and swirled her wine around the glass. The thrum of music echoed against the walls of her home and she found herself relaxing further. Her busy mind welcomed the sound. Music always found a way to ground the continuous inflation of her thoughts, then the song would deter her mind from the call of work to ensure she became lost in the beat.   
  
Swaying softly from her perch Hermione began to quietly hum along with the sounds. Music made it easier to shake things loose from her mind. Clearing out the dead ends and making way for new roots to form. A happy yawn left her mouth as her head slowly lolled to the side, eyeing the morbid photos with a feigned interest. 

 

She had run them through her mind more times than she could count and she had gotten nowhere new. The worst of it all was that she could feel  _ something  _ there. Something was staring back at her in wait, like she  _ should  _ know- no, like she  _ did _ know. The damn thing was poking at the forefront of her mind and screaming in a language she could not understand.

 

It had been driving her mad before she silenced it with alcohol.

 

“I hide behind the words and not speak within but without.” She mocked, turning herself towards the pictures. “What kind of riddle needs flowers to answer. It’s not like they even  _ have  _ words to speak, they are just pla-” She stumbled mid thought.

 

Everything came slamming back at once, the sensation turning her stomach with every pass of information. Hide behind the words and not speak within but without.  _ Not speak _ .

 

Hermione bolted to her feet, the rush making her slightly weak in the knees before she ran towards her home library. “Flowers do not  _ speak _ !” She cried as she practically crashed into the shelf. 

 

The books began to pulse under her fingers as she traced the spines in a hurried manner, her slight intoxication making the situation more difficult than it had to be. “Because flowers speak  _ without  _ words!” Hermione squealed, finishing her thought as she continued to scour her shelves. She knew she had a copy, she just had to find it- 

 

“Ah!” She tugged the book from its home on the shelf, the title was singing its praise back at her. “The language of Flowers.”    
  
She grinned, she was immensely proud of herself for even discovering this. What  _ man  _ in that investigation team would have stopped to read into the backstory of flowers? She already knew the answer was none… perhaps Harry but he would need a reason to think that way first.

 

Lowering herself to the floor, Hermione drew herself into the pages below her. Her grin widened as she enjoyed the quick but gentle swipe of the paper beneath her fingers. “D, d, d, d…” she drawled as she drug her fingers through the individual pages.

 

“Deadly nightshade, ‘ _ Death.’ _ ” Her shoulders sagged at the definition. It was the same answer as that one ridiculous riddle, absolutely useless. Hermione found herself grumbling as shuffled through the pages in search of roses. She was dreading that it might be something as ridiculous as love. Two extra words did  _ not  _ help anyone answer bloody riddles.

 

“Roses.” She sighed while she scanned down the row for the definition. “A confession of love.”   
  
A numbness began to bleed itself into veins, drawing her breath short and making her fingers tingle. That couldn’t be right, could it?  _ That  _ could not possibly be the answer to all these riddles. Her eyes force themselves to re-read the sentence over again… and again, but it never changed.   
  
“They are using death to confess their love for someone.” The book slipped from her fingers and the impact it made with the floor caused her ears ring. A love letter written in riddles, a letter that very few people could piece together. More importantly it was a letter for someone they had changed their tactics for.

 

The killer was writing to someone they believed  _ understood  _ them. “ _ Harry _ …”

 

Hermione was not quite sure how it all occurred but, from somewhere after her realization and now, she had gotten into her car. The determination and fear of Harry’s safety had waltzed her straight into the asylum of Dr. Riddle. It had been the sound of her soft-sole shoes as they bounced off the walls that made her realize the absurdity of her actions, but she needed to speak to Riddle immediately . 

 

If she was right and Harry’s life was at risk, then she had to pull him from the case. Riddle was the only other person she could think of that might be able to process information the way she could.   
  
Hermione had to bite back the relieved smile threatening to brighten her lips when she saw Riddle standing in wait at the glass wall, watching her with a curious gaze. “Hermione,” He purred in a matter all too familiar for her liking, the sound instantly peeled the relief from her skin and left behind something far less comforting. 

  
“ _ Please _ tell me that you have looked over the files?” Hermione moved in close to the glass, her brows pinching together while she nibbled at her lower lip.   
  
“Depends.” He twisted his smirk cruelly at her. “What is so important about  _ those  _ riddles that you would come all the way here in the dead of night, free from any of your ‘profesional’ tags and slightly inebriated might I add, to bother  _ this  _ Riddle.”

 

A blush flared across her cheeks at the way he was now staring down at her. She took a quick second to look down. She had done absolutely nothing to prepare for the visit. Her curls were free around her face and she was in nothing more than leggings and baggy shirt. She hadn't even bothered with adding a jacket.

“ _ Shit _ .” Hermione quietly scolded herself. “I didn’t have time to waste.” Hermione lifted her chin a little higher, refusing to let this slip up intimidate her. “The information I came across could be critical and I needed the answers  _ now _ .”

 

“Then why come to me?” The smile on his lips never left, but there was a sudden bout of curiosity in his voice. “Why not call up Albus, or Mr. Potter?”   
  
“If I could turn to them for this question, Dr. Riddle, they would have never of asked you for assistance on the case at all.” Her brown eyes narrowed when she answered. She disliked looking at this man. Everything about him was wrong, from the deepness of his blue eyes to his unaging features. He just did not seem human.   
  
“Indeed.” Tom chuckled as he played upon the sudden dislike in her eyes. That, made her narrow  her eyes further,  _ that  _ she hated even more. No one should be able to pick apart the people around them so easily. Tom Riddle was a disgustingly brilliant man and that is what forced her to come  _ here  _ of all places. “But, yes. I have had the chance to look over the files, Hermione.”

 

“Oh, thank god.” Hermione felt the weights fall from her person as she leaned one shoulder into the glass. “Okay, so I need to run these idea by you an-”

 

“No.” His sudden interference had her sputter in confusion.

 

“No?” She parroted.   
  
“No.” He agreed. Hermione could only watch in stunned silence as Tom came to stand in her line of sight. There was a glint of amusement flickering in his dark blues as he fell to lean against the glass himself. “I want my exchange first. You give me something I want and I will give you something in return.”   
  
The words remained frozen on her tongue. It was true, she had agreed to exchanges for information, but she was certain that Tom Riddle had  _ no intention  _ of asking for another book. “Fine.” Swallowing thickly Hermione pushed a tangle of curls behind one ear. “And what,  _ exactly _ , is it you want in exchange?”

 

“Information,” Tom’s grin widened.  
  
Dark brown eyes narrowed at the man, something about the self assured look on his face made her feel uneasy. “Information pertaining to what?” She asked slowly, the words falling from  her mouth like the tumble of a roulette barrel. He could ask about anything, about the asylums routines or about how to escape. Yet, _somehow_ , Hermione felt like he didn’t need to know about those things…. Simply because he already knew.  
  
“You, of course.”

 


	7. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoy the new chapter. 
> 
> To those who have it - join me on tumblr @shadowedcries, I share riddles and snippets from the story. I would love to hear from you guys! 
> 
> As always I must thank weestarmeggie for being my lovely beta!

### Chapter 6

 

_“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, cannot be heard, cannot be felt. It lies behind the stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after. Ends life and kills laughter.”_

**_-J.R.R Tolkien, The Hobbit_ **

 

**_~*~_ **

 

There was something about watching this well formed woman fall apart at the seams that was entirely satisfying. The asylum orderlies woke him from his rest with no warning, just a flip of the switch and a good shout to inform him that someone was coming to speak to him. Tom had been furious. He had been seething knowing that he was at the FBI’s beck and call. It had been a bit of a surprise when she had come bounding down that hallway on her own.  

Her hair was a mane of ruffled curls cascading down her back, framing her pink dusted cheeks in a playful manner. Tom took in everything, from the heavy breath rising from her chest, to her state of dress, with a critical eye. She had spared no time to make her way here - she did not stop to think, simply acted, which was curious in of itself. Hermione did not come off as someone who simply _stopped_ thinking.

Than he caught it in the flicker of her eyes. A tainted haze and a blush that did not reduce with the calming of her heart. She had been _drinking_ and enough for it to dull those sharp senses. She wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t pulling apart every words he said. She was _vulnerable_. 

Tom could feel the grin curl up his cheeks. It was too perfect. She had come to him to demand answers in panic and intoxication. _Alone._ It was an opportunity he would not find again. 

The way Hermione was staring up at him felt like victory. Her head had tilted slightly to the side in question, but there was not a trace of denial on her warm features. “Me?”  
  
Tom’s smile began to burn itself into his skin, pressing the sweetness of satisfaction into the nerves of his flesh.“Yes or no, Hermione.” Her name fell from Tom’s tongue like honeyed poison and she hated it. His eyes flickered across her face, watching as she battled that buzz of intoxication for some sense of logic. He had something to gain from this, but she could just not quite put her finger on what. “For each answer I grant you, I wish to have an answer in return.” 

“And if I do not answer?” Her brows grew together in thought. 

“Than I will not answer either.” He grinned.

In all of his years, Tom had never thought watching someone draw in a single breath could bring a sense of victory. In most incidents it was quite the opposite, but with her it was different. She had defied him every moment she got, but now she was at _his_ command. He had the answers that no other did. She had to listen because there was no longer a choice on the matter.

“Fine,” she released that surrendering breath then turned her caramel eyes up at him. “Ask away Dr. Riddle.”

“Tom.” He corrected.

“Not a chance,” Hermione bit back, her face falling into a scowl. “You may be getting to question me, Dr. Riddle but we are, in no way, getting familiar with one another.”

“Is that so?” Tom laughed. “Well then, it seems like we must agree to disagree on the matter.” His chest swelled with amusement. Something about watching the determination in her soul flared to life tickled him. He was going to adore picking apart the details that made her ‘Hermione Granger’ and he was going to love watching her squirm while he did so. “You see, Hermione, I have every intention of getting _familiar_ with you.”

There was a challenge on the quirk of her lips and a humm of amusement in her eyes. “Good luck on the matter, Doctor.”  
  
“Before we begin,” Tom drawled softly, his hand lacing behind his back as he watched her carefully. “What was it you were going to say before I so rudely interrupted?” Tom watched as surprise flickered in her warm eyes.  
  
“I had an idea about the riddles that I wished to run by you.” She chose her words carefully, drawing out each sound with more question than necessary. “I think I have discovered their purpose.” 

One elegant brow lifted at her words, he had not expected anyone else to have began putting the pieces together so quickly. He had almost believed Harry would have been the one to make the first big break, seeing as he could empathise with the killer, but Hermione never ceased to peak his curiosity.  
  
“How long have you known Harry?” 

Hermione’s brows creased with suspicion. “Since I was eleven.” She stated bruntly. “Now, about the-“

“Interesting. Such long term friends, yet, you go complete stiff in his presence.” His smile curled cruelly as he watched her go stiff under its intensity. The look was all too knowing and he could sense the fear beginning to build behind her eyes. “How long have you know about Mr. Potter’s particular… _affections_ for you.”

“W-what?”

“Did I stutter, Hermione?” He chuckled. “I do not believe I did.” The way her dark caramel eyes narrowed on him brought instant amusement. Such a fiesty creature she was, determined to deny the things she knew to be true out of sheer stubbornness.

“Long enough.” She growled roughly. He could tell she had to force the words from her throat.

“Come now, Hermione,” he mused, “that is not an answer, if you do not play the game by my rules than we won’t be playing at all.”

“I would assume it was the night he met _you_.” Her voice was a bitter sound, pressing against his ears with intent to bite. A threat meant to keep him from pressing the subject further. Not that it would actually deter him.

 

“Well isn’t that fascinating.” Tom hummed, the cruelty flashing behind his eyes must have been noticeable because something in her flickered with recognition.  
  
“Yes well,” she scoffed, “You seem to bring out the worst in people.”

“No,” Tom’s grin grew as he stared down at her. They had been so different towards each other that day. Hermione had been guarded but Harry, well, it was like he still had no care in the world. She was still the brightest thing of his day. The woman who put him back together when he broke. “It is fascinating because he seems entirely unaffected by your rejection.”

Tom could laugh at the way her brown instantly narrowed on him and the way her hands folded over her chest. “Who said I rejected him?”

“You did not have to, Hermione.” With a pointed grin Tom pushed his long fingers through his thick waves.  “Your closed off nature and well chosen words speak for you.Though I must say that I am surprised he took it so well. It is almost like he did not know the same details of your little conversations.”

Tom caught the was she pinched her lower lip between her teeth when he mentioned their conversations. It was something else, they didn’t talk… so what else could it be? He could not have made a move on the woman, he was far too composed for that to have occurred.

“The _details_ are none of your concern.” Her eyes continued to narrow coldly, slicing through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter. 

“Oh, he _did_ make a move. Such a naughty boy.”  Laughter began to bubble up from deep inside Tom’s chest, pressing the dark amusement against his face. “Did he show up on your doorstep after his little chat with the _devil_ and beg to take solace between your thighs?” 

Tom could see her swallow thickly and her eyelids flicker with surprise at his words. “Excuse me?” Her words were almost breathless. He was getting into her head. Her vulnerabilities were beginning to show with the slow rise of color in her cheeks.

“How far did it go before that heavy logic of yours began to kick in, Hermione?” Her gaze shot to his in an attempt to better absorb his words, trying to make sense of the sounds he was forming. He could see the denial and the truth. It was was like witnessing it occur there in her mind, memories laid out like naked flesh for his mind’s eye to witness alone. “Was it before or after he had you crying out his name?”

“I do believe it is my turn, _Doctor.”_ The once sweet trickle on her feminine vocals became more reminiscent of glass scraping across stone. Hermione was clearly acting on her more threatening features and Tom found himself admiring the darkness in her eyes. 

“Ah, yes, how rude of me.” Tom chuckles in a mocking tone. “Ask your question, Hermione.” 

That hard gaze of her’s wandered over his face before she took the chance to open her mouth. “This afternoon I discovered a connection between a hint at the crime scene and the riddles.”

Tom felt the wonderful curl of pleasure run through his veins and as determination steeled itself deep inside her bones. Fighting the intoxication. Fighting the delightful bliss that numbed the edges of her mind. Such a clever girl.

Than she continued. “The more I look at them the more I realize they are not _random._ ” She pressed herself closer to the glass, and her voice lowered in a hushed ways. Speaking words meant for his ears alone. No cameras, no possible microphones. Simply _his_ . “It is a note isn’t it?” Her breath thrummed against the glass, leaving behind a light film of humidity on its surface. “Not just any note, the killer is leaving love notes to someone. These kills are meant as a _gift_.”

Tom’s dark amusement fell to that cataclysm of his emptiness, his emotions reverting as quickly as they had formed. The blue of his eyes became an unmoving force on her features. There was no words for such a sensation, perhaps other than shock. No one had understood his previous hints, not even the Potter boy… but she saw. She was _seeing._ He hadn’t even given her a hint, she found it _herself_.

“Well done, Hermione.” His voice did not sound nearly as strong as it had, the bloody woman had practically stolen the breath from his lungs.

“You mean…” She paused, a sudden brightness lighting up her soul from the inside. “I was right?”

The look on her face was nearly contagious enough to make the corner of his lip to twitch. He did not like it, but it was utterly fascinating. “It is pleasing to know someone capable is now handling the case.” Tom’s head tilted as he spoke, watching… waiting to see how she reacted. He was not disappointed by the shot of pride rushing across her face, filling her cheeks with a deep grin and warming her skin.

It seemed like her team was taking her for granted, not giving her proper praise or perhaps credit for her work. Their ignorance would work in his favor.

“The killer left flowers inside the victim's heart.” Hermione explained quickly. “Deadly nightshade and Moss Rose buds, they me-”

“Death and a confession of love” Tom chuckled at the shell shocked expression suddenly taking over her face.

“H-how did you know that?”

“I have an eidetic memory, Hermione.” He rose on slick brow at her, and the quirk in the corner spoke insults. Those to her intelligence and he knew she would notice them. It was her pride and joy. There was no was she would miss anyone even hinting at its infurarity. “Surely you know that.”

As expected she turned her nose up stubbornly at him before snuffing out a growl. “Yes, you will have to forgive my forgetfulness.” Her words were rhetorical.

Not that Tom actually cared enough to give her that small luxury.

“You are forgiven.” The words fell from his tongue in a seductive manner, slowly and purposefully. He wanted them to make her skin flare to life with the mere sound of his words. “We can blame that on your intoxication, if you wish.” A cheshire would be envious of the terrible grin tainting his handsome face. “Among _other_ things.”

Her brows threaded together and her mouth opened as if to ask, but Hermione caught herself. She only had one question, if she changed topic than she would lose her turn. “So the answers to these riddles,” she forces the words off her tongue in order to keep her other question at bay. “They will become a letter to whom they are killing for?”

“You are _so_ close, Hermione.” 

“Then tell me!” Hermione slammed her palms into the glass.

“No, my answers will give you the tools you need to find those answers yourself.” Tom lowered himself to her level before lazily pressing his hands into the glass as well. He mirrored her there, hand on hand with only a thick sheet of glass between them. So Tom leaned in, taking in her barricaded touch with interest. “You are a brilliant woman, Hermione, I will not coddle or belittle you like those fools. So I will teach you to see what they do not.”

Her caramel eyes slowly fell to their separated hands, as if trying to map out what it was that he found so interesting. “Then teach me.”

“Did he fuck you, Hermione?” Tom already knew the answer, but watching the fear pulsate through her skin and the rigidity encapsule her being was worth it. A smugness washed over Tom’s skin as he found himself falling into the depravity of laughter. The boy had somehow gotten her into the palm of her hand and still managed to fuck it up. “That level of rejection, and Potter still worships the ground you walk?”

“He doesn't remember.” Hermione had spoke so quietly that Tom had almost not heard her.

“Doesn’t,” It felt like Tom’s grin was beginning to take a knife to it’s own skin, peeling back his dimple into a sharp cut line. That deep red hiding in the depths of his eyes flickered to life almost instantly. “ _Remember?_ ”

“No,” Hermione shook her head with a heaviness only she could understand, but Tom wanted to know. He wanted to know _everything_. “There are times I have to… put him back together.” She explained. “Harry often enters ‘dark episodes’, His mind shuts down and dissociates from the rest of him. That state is programmed to run the basic necessities but most of all it knows to find me because I can bring him back.”

“He is the reason you began taking behavioral science.” It wasn’t a question that left Tom’s lips, just a simple observation. Hermione felt obligated to protect her ‘little bear’ because she learned early on that she was the only one who could. As for Potter, well it seemed he had learned to admire and be amazed by her abilities. An awestruck and lovesick young man who came to worship the woman she became… what she became for _him_.

That thought almost left behind a bitter taste in Tom’s mouth, like dirty metal on the pallet of his tongue. “Then you came to run a department and insured his safety under you.” That bitterness was beginning to show in Toms words. “You must have been livid to discover that dear old Dumbledore was going to sell him to the devil.”

“Yes.” She returned breathlessly. There were so many emotions rushing through her eyes that Tom could barely keep up with them.

“Then you willingly took his place.” He would have done anything to sink his fingers into her rat’s nest of hair, at that moment. To hook his fingers in a the root and lift until she was forced to stand on her tiptoes. He wanted to stare her in the eyes without this bloody glass between the two of them so she could understand the implications of her actions. “How does it feel to have your life threaded through my fingers, Hermione?”

“Teach me how to see, Doctor.” Hermione was straining for the words, seeking them in a place where words were beginning to mean little.

She was trying to distract him, to steal his interest away from the fact pieces of her veneer were beginning to crumble. “Answer me, Hermione.”

“Teach me how.” She retorted stubbornly.

Tom slammed his hands down against the glass, a force so strong that it had jolted her on the other side. “Look me in the eye and tell me what I want to know!” The untouched darkness inside of him was beginning to stir. It had been so long since it had made itself known, it never felt the true need for substance or desire for death. Tom found reason enough to justify his kills without it. Murder had not been a demand Tom could not control, but a choice this monster inside him craved. Now it was interested, just as he was interested. she was…. _fascinating_ . “Or _leave._ ”

She was not going to leave. He had already put her together; her pride far too set in stone for her to retreat now. The act would weigh her down, she would not have been able to leave the building without returning after five minutes. Hermione swallowed thickly before hesitantly looking  up to catch his heavy gaze. _There_ it was. Submission had never been so heavenly before and Tom breathed it in like it was the freshest air he had ever tasted.

“Tell me.” He pressed with a heated tone, like her silence was starving him. He was desperate. He needed to know. He _had_ to know. “Tell me, Hermione.” 

“It-”

“Miss Granger.” Tom nearly snarled at the pitch of a woman’s voice echoing from the end of the hall and Hermione had gone still. She must have realized that she almost told him.

“Go away _Bellatrix_.” Tom growled. His skin was vibrating with complete rage, she had ruined his one chance to have Hermione completely vulnerable.

“Ms.Granger,” Bella continued ignoring the fact Tom had even spoken, her dark eyes set on the frozen woman standing on the other side of his cell. “Visiting hours have ended.”

“I know, b-but,” Hermione pivoted hesitantly towards the newest addition. “This is important.”

“This ‘important’ thing can wait until the morning, Miss Granger.” Bella was glaring down at her, taking in her unkempt state with a critical eye. “I have already been kind enough to keep the doors open this long and I refuse to do so any longer.”

Tom was seething. “Hermione, This is Bellatrix Lestrange. Her husband run’s this establishment, so I am afraid her word is law.” He growled without removing his eyes from Bella’s dark figure.

“Oh!” Hermione cleared her throat and began grabbing the few things she had brought her with her. “Y-yes, sorry.”

“I expect an answer by the time you return.” Tom finally returned his stormy blue eyes to her face. “Is that understood, Hermione?”

She did not answer… but she did not have to. Hermione knew the consequences of her actions and she still had every intention of following them through. Tom watched darkly as Bella pushed Hermione down the long hallways.

Oh yes, she was going to return. She was going return far more prepared and ready for this little battle between them. She would do it and she would do it because she was proud.

Tom almost fell into laughter again. She was such an enchantingly, wicked creature.

 

~*~

 

 _A fire burned beneath Hermione’s skin and made a flush come into fruition upon it. The air in her lungs became humid enough that she could hardly breath. She was unsure if she wanted too. Every puff for something fresh, something with the ability to battle the blaze inside, was met by barricades. Her throat had gone hoarse, but whether it had been from her cries or her exhaustion she could no longer place._ _  
_

_Nothing had a place anymore. That well organized mind of her’s was heavy, lost in a haze of hunger. Or, was it was fingers tangled in her curls, acting like an anchor to keep her against the mattress? Wait, maybe it was the lips that spoke words of husky sin?_

_He was there, pressed against her chest. His teeth bit down with the force of a predator just below her jaw and forced the lustful sob from her vocals. Her nerves flared under his dangerous treatment. It pulled and shook all sense of decency from her mind. This type of lust was primal and she was ready to ravish this man for substance._ _  
_

The desire pooled in the pit of her stomach with each leisured gesture he honoured her flesh with. Oh and by the gods, his hands. The swirls he painted against her skin were delightfully calculated. This man had all but sunk himself beneath her skin to discover each nook that made her mewl and whatever crevice made her moan. He seemed to like her repressed yelps the best, for he created many, tortuous, moments delving into the divinity of the offerings. In her euphoria, she butchered the creator's name with profanities and he lived to swallow those curses from her tongue.  _  
_

Hermione’s back arched to press her breasts against him, a feeble attempt to snuff out the need. His bare chest rubbed against the cotton of her shirt to a point where nipples hardened and buzzed for his attention. Gods, the need became apparent all over her figure; from the thick breath that left her lungs to the way her toes curled. Though, the thigh firmly planted between her legs had the true pleasure of knowing the extent of her desire. 

_He laughed cruelly against her lips because he knew. He adored the quiver that assaulted her nerves and took great pride in the damp fabric that clutched to his thigh. He knew she ached, but ignored it. He took solace in the warmth of her moan instead of the pleasure to become lost in them. It drove her mad._

_Hermione made a slow weave against his body and pulled him closer, higher. She wanted everything this man had to offer, every inch of him pressed up against her until she cried under his tortuous gaze. She wanted the way his callused fingers dug into her ribs. She wanted to whine while they mutilated her skin with bruises and purr to each slap that graced her thigh with a red hue._ _  
_

_He complied, not because she had begged but because he was predatory and he knew when he had cornered his prey_

_He separated them to remove those offensive pants from her view and Hermione had moved to join him but was met with force. She had never been slammed back into a bed so hard in her life. One hand clasped around her throat. The threat layered her skin like tar while he pressed down hard against her windpipe. Her warm eyes flicked against the strain while she stared up at him. She could not move, so she hesitantly submitted to his will. It was frightening to realize a morbid arousal swelled in her core and his grin widened with the glory of it._

_He was the alpha in this room - the dominant - and the knowledge danced like the colour of blood in his eyes. And, just like that, the devil shed the angel’s skin._  
  
_Her brows creased with a curious twitch. This was not the same person anymore. This was darker… dangerous._  
_  
_ **_Wrong_ **. 

Hermione sat upright with a cry for breath, her chest heaving for something just outside of her grasp. Warm eyes darted around the sunlit room, finding it vacant of life, other than her own that is. No dark man haunting her dreams.

Hermione pressed a hand against her sweat covered brow and sighed. It was just a dream.

A very sexual- no... _dark_ dream that involved To- _No_ ! No. That name was _not_ about to enter her mind. It had to of been Harry, there was no way in the seven hells she would have dreams about Tom Riddle. Though, the fact she could not quite remember his face was beginning  to leave an itch in the back of her mind.

Hermione threw herself from the bed with a strangled moan. It was all Riddle’s fault, he put all those damn thoughts in her head. Thoughts about Harry. Thoughts about him. Thoughts about fucking. It was wrong, but her drunken mind had somehow managed to weave it all together.

 _We can blame it on your intoxication, if you wish._ Tom’s memory purred into her mind. _Among_ **_other_ ** _things._

Hermione froze in place. He couldn’t have… no she was surely thinking too much about the matter. There was no way he could have known she would have dreamt anything like that.

Hermione groaned loudly. She needed a shower, a long hot--No, _cold_ shower. 

She began stripping herself of her shirt before she had even left the room, tugging one button at a time before allowing the fabric to drop to the floor. She knew leaving it in the middle of her hallway was hardly ideal but Hermione could not find a reason to care. All she could think about was how glorious that shower was going to feel.

“Hermione you’re awake,” Harry’s voice began to trail off near the end. The distant clatter cup dropping to the floor had the air catching in Hermione’s throat.

 _Shit_. This could not be happening. Not after the night she had.

She looked towards Harry slowly, dreading each second she spent fearful of his expression. The first thing she notice was the coffee pooling at his feet and the fact he seemed to unaffected by the hot substance. Next it was the way he way he swallowed thickly, the movement obvious to the naked eye. What frightened her the most was the way his features became saturated in a haze of lust.

Hesitantly , Hermione moved to cover her naked chest. Regretting the fact she had shed her clothing so quickly. She didn’t know what to say and she was unsure if Harry’s brain was working anymore.

“Harry, is everything alright?” The sound of Sirius bounding up the stairs had Hermione’s grip tighten around her chest before she could scramble to snatch her shirt off the floor. “I heard a cup fall.” Sirius caught Harry’s stunned face before he thought to look down the hall.

 _Great_. Hermione could only let out a strangled groan as a shit-eating grin split Sirius face.

“Well, well,” Sirius chuckled. “No wonder Harry spends so much time here. If I knew this was how you greeted guests in the morning, kitten, I would have started coming over a long time ago.”

“You’re horrible.” The blush sweeping across her skin was more noticeable than the angry tone in her voice. Hermione turned quickly and made haste for the security of her bathroom. “Harry, pick your jaw off the floor and go the hell downstairs. I’ll be out in a minute.” She couldn’t have slammed the door fast enough.

Could this day get any worse?

 


	8. The Answer in Every Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beautiful Beta, WeestarMeggie, who promises to hunt me down after this chapter if things don't go her way.  
> Love you too sweetie! ;) <3
> 
> join me on Tumblr! @shadowedcries  
> I do plenty of riddle games for everyone, lots of fun. Win short stories (prompts given by the winner), ask for snippets, or ask any question you like about Defy and Define! 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the new chapter!

### Chapter 7

“I had learned early to assume something dark and lethal was hidden at the heart of anything I loved. When I couldn't find it, I responded, bewildered and wary, in the only way I knew how: by planting it there myself.”

―[ **Tana French**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/138825.Tana_French) , [ **In the Woods**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3088141)

 

~*~

  
  


Harry found himself in a haze of silence, the morning passed so quickly he almost didn’t realise it had happened. He was… _stunned_ , to say the least, by this morning's events. Actually, it was more accurate to say that it almost had rendered him useless.

He wanted to smack himself for the way he had reacted. Lust had hit him like a bloody storm, it rolled against his senses and thundered with a need he did not know he had. There had been something else, something that had been sparked by the softness of her curves like a… _memory_.

“Mr. Potter.” The gentleness of Albus’s voice caused Harry to crash back into reality. “Are you still with us?”

“Y-yes, sorry.” Harry forced himself to choke out the words as his green gaze darted across the room. There were several pairs of eyes on him now, all of them expecting the world of him and all of them would be disappointed. Swallowing past the dryness of his throat, Harry turned to the person standing at the head of the table. Her dark eyes focused and eager to share her knowledge.

“Now, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore continued. “Tell us why you have had us gather here today.”

Harry’s interest spiked. Hermione had refused to tell Sirius and himself what the urgent news was, she insisted that she wanted to inform everyone as a team. He had seen the change in her eyes. They sparkled with a sense of pride and accomplishment. It made her look radiant, as if the sun itself had become the halo around her mass of curls.

“I know what the flowers mean.” Hermione’s lips curled as she began shuffling through her bag, searching for something she believed to be important.

“You must be joking.” Sirius scoffed back his laughter. Harry almost joined his godfather in laughter when Hermione narrowed her eyes dangerously. She was being short with both of them, due to this morning's events. Not that Harry blamed her. “Of course you’re not joking.” Sirius sighed. “ _Kitten_ , we only found out about the bloody things _yesterday_.”

“I know that.” She snapped back. “But I was not about to let a couple of flowers throw me for a loop.” Hermione sniffed irritably as she put her bag down on the table and continued digging through it. Harry didn’t understand how she found anything in that bag of her’s, he swore she carried a whole library in the damn thing. “I had been confused. I knew the flowers had _something_ to do with the riddles, but what kind of meaning do flowers hold? What purpose do they serve?”

“So does this mean you have discovered the answer to this riddle?” Albus leaned into his elbows, awaiting Hermione’s explanation eagerly.

“Sadly, no.” Her lips quirked to the side with her answer. “The flowers aren't the answer, but they are the _reason_.”

“The reason?” Harry’s forehead creased at that, not quite following Hermione’s train of thought. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Ah,” Hermione hummed thoughtfully as she snatched a book free from his prison. “The easiest way to explain it, Harry, if to ask you a simple question: For what reason do you give someone flowers?”

Harry felt taken back by that. The answer was so simple that it could not possibly be right. “As a gift?”

“Yes!” The sound of the book thudding against the table nearly drowned out the excitement in Hermione’s voice. The sound almost frightened him. Hermione loved her work but she also lost herself to it. “The murders are exactly that, a gift.”

“Hermione.” Sirius’ voice was low as his eyes darted across the face of the book in front of them. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

“I know it sounds odd, but the meaning of these flowers proves it to be so.” Hermione met Harry’s eyes in an almost pleading manner. They always doubted her. They doubted her due to her sex, they doubted her because of the way she looked, but they believed in him. They both knew it and Harry hated it.

“What do the flowers mean?” The words had left his mouth almost automatically and the thankfulness in the curve of her plump lips made Harry’s chest swell.

Gods, he was hopeless.

“I was up all night looking into it, then I remembered that flowers have a language of their own.” With that statement Hermione pushed the book further up the table and towards the rest of them. “Deadly Nightshade stands for death, which is _entirely_ unsurprising of course, but it was the Rosebud Moss that made it all click into place.”

Her soft fingers hooked into the paper, pulling back the cover to reveal the page marked off under Rosebud Moss. The room fell into an eerie silence as they pondered the information on  the page in front of them. 

One by one all the pieces began to click together in the back of his mind. All the pieces he had been missing. All the little things that had never made sense. _All_ of it was beginning to make sense.

“The killer is confessing their love for someone.” Harry scrubbed a frustrated hand up his face before falling back into his seat. “The murders _are_ a gift.”

“Yes.” A soft sigh of relief had left Hermione’s lungs. “I haven’t found out the exact reason for the riddles yet, but I do know it is something akin to a letter. Dr. Riddle had-”

“ _Riddle_ ?” There was fury in Sirius’ voice. Harry cringed at the sound, he had seen hell after his godfather had gotten word about his ‘visits’ with the doctor, and Sirius made it very clear exactly how much he disagreed with the doctor taking part in this investigation. “When the fuck did you get the chance to consult Riddle on this matter?”

“Last night, after I made the discovery.” Hermione retorted with a sharpness to her tone.

“You told that bastard of your discovery before you told us?”

“Yes, I did.” She leaned her palms against the table and stared Sirius down with an unflinching determination that Harry admired her for. “Whether you like it or not, Sirius, the man is a genius and he knows more than he wishes to share. If anyone could confirm what I discovered, it was him and I was willing to accept that.”

A dark fear swayed between the confines of Harry’s rib-cage at the thought of Hermione being alone with that man. He knew Riddle would not have handed over  the answers easily, nor would he have ‘just told her’ without him demanding that she fulfilled their exchange.

Harry was going to have to ask her about the matter in private, last thing he needed was for the others to know that Hermione had gone and put her life at risk because of them.

“What else did Tom have to say, Miss Granger?” The group turned to Albus, whose gaze was no longer encouraging and gentle. There was a sternness behind his knowing blue eyes that was entirely distressing. It was a look he had never seen from Albus before.

“I am afraid I was escorted from the building before I could find out more on the subject.” Hermione averted her eyes and traced her fingers along the edges of the open book in front of them. “I showed up after visiting hours and they became impatient about waiting on me.”

“I see.” A sigh left the elder’s lungs as he turned his eyes towards their plot board, his eyes scouring the white wall as if seeing it for the first time. “This is certainly problematic.”

“The killer won't stop until they get their ‘love letter’ finished.” Sirius’s tone rumbled as he shook a irritated hand through his hair. Harry watched as a deep puff of air deflated his godfather's chest before he leaned an elbow onto the desk. “Fuck. We need to answer these bloody riddles.”

“That we do, Sirius.” The quiet contemplation of Albus’ tone had Harry turning towards the elderly man with a raised brow. He almost wished he didn’t look because the way Albus was watching Hermione planted a seed of worry. Those cool blue eyes met green when Albus returned Harry’s gaze. “We will need the two of you to go back and visit Tom. I agree with Miss Granger’s assumption of him knowing more than he has chosen to share.”

“We understand.” Harry spoke slowly before he turned to look at Hermione. a nervous worry had set into her warm features and he did not like it one bit.

What had happened between her and Riddle?

  


~*~

 

Hermione’s stomach tightened the more her feet dragged her closer to Tom’s cell. She almost did not want to see him and she definitely did not want to answer the question he pushed to know. Being sober made this situation a lot more real than it had been last night… it made her realize the true consequences of it all.

What had she gotten herself into?

Her caramel eyes drifted to the man at her side, a strong determination set his face in stone. She was doing this for him. She was doing this to keep him safe… even if it meant serving herself up on a silver platter to a serial killer.

“Hermione, what are you keeping from me?” Harry’s voice was low, insuring that the conversation wouldn’t be overheard by the man down the hall. “I know something is going on, something happened between you and him and I don’t like it one bit.”

Her heart sunk enough that it interfered with her step patterns. Hermione pulled her lower lip between her teeth and averted her eyes. She didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t explain to him that Tom knew things that Harry’s own memories had blocked out. “It doesn’t matter right now.” She turned a soft smile his direction before forcing herself to look away again.

He didn’t believe her, nor did he approve of her brushing him off, but thankfully he left the subject alone.

“Back so soon, Hermione?” The arrogant sound of Tom’s voice grated on her nerves. The bastard had not even seen her face to face yet and he was already rubbing the power he had over her in the same manner that one would rub salt into wounds: with far too much pleasure. “I am flattered.”

Her arms instantly crossed over her chest when she caught the way he was leaning against the glass, his lips spread with the most irritating smirk she had ever seen.

Bastard.

“Hello, Tom.” Harry interjected before she could open her mouth.

Tom’s eyes snapped in Harry’s direction with slight irritation before his grin became something cruel. A slight fear slipped into her veins at the way he was taking in Harry’s form.

“Hello Mr. Potter, have you fared well since our last encounter?” Hermione didn’t like Tom’s tone one bit.

Harry’s brow rose suspiciously before his eyes narrowed. “If you don’t mind _Doctor,_ we are here because of the case. _We_ don’t have time for small talk.”

“Well, aren't we getting a little overprotective,” Tom chuckled. “Careful Mr. Potter, Hermione might begin questioning your motivations on the matter.” 

Hermione had to force herself from sucking in a sharp breath. He wouldn’t. Certainly, he knew that tormenting Harry about his feelings would make her defensive and would possibly cause her to stop sharing information.

Fuck, who was she kidding?

Tom didn’t care because he had her cornered. The only way they would continue to get information out of him is through her compliance. She had nowhere to run, she was cornered by the monster known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry growled questioningly. She watched as his eyes narrowed even further as he  began to weigh the possibilities of Tom’s words.

“I wonder.” Tom’s attention slowly shifted back to Hermione, his eyes flashing with a knowledge Harry, himself, didn’t even have. “Tell me Hermione, have you had the chance to think over my question?” His head tilted and watched her in a way that made her nerves quiver. It was like he was peeling back the layers of her state of dress and that alone immediately brought her into the memories of her dream. “I have been waiting _eagerly_ for your answer.”

A fierce blush began to spread across her cheeks, forcing her to look away from the man. How _did_ she feel about having her life in his hands? How did she even explain it?

Tom was brilliant, he was _stunning_ , and he was _frightening_ . Despite it all she could spend all damn day picking apart his mind. Gods, as much as she did not want to admit it, she actually _wanted_ to. It was thrilling, but also dangerous.

It was…

“ _Invigorating_ .” The words left her mouth in a breathless reply, then she all but froze. She had said it _outloud_ and now she was truly afraid to look Riddle in the face. Hermione cleared her throat quickly before she forced a stumble of words from her mouth. “We need your assistance.” She cursed herself. “About the riddles, that is. We need answers… or at least a hint to find the answers.”

“Very well, answers you shall hav-”

“Okay, that is _it_ .” Harry snapped. “What the _hell_ have you done Hermione?” She jolted at Harry’s dark tone. She had never seen Harry so... angry before, the look in his eyes was clouded by something akin to jealousy and rage. There was something about Riddle that sent him over the edge, like the essence inside him was changing in the wake of another darkness. “Riddle never just _gives_ away answers. What the hell have you done to earn that?”

“Harry…” She sank her teeth into her cheek before casting a quick glance at Tom. He was watching them interact with more interest than necessary. Tom soaked up Harry’s rage like he had been starving for the sustenance of it. “It’s complicated.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Hermione.” Harry took a step towards her and she stiffened.

She didn’t like this. She didn’t like the darkness Tom seemed to bring out in him. Harry’s empathic abilities caused him to take on the older man’s traits, like their souls were beginning to mesh into something _terrible_ . Than it dawned on her. She had _seen_ this darkness in Harry before. That night he had lost control, the night he couldn’t remember… he had embodied _Tom’s_ traits in order to cope with what Riddle had done to him.

And, she had _enjoyed_ the rough nature of it. No. No, that had to be wrong. It was _not_ Tom’s nature she was attracted to. Hermione blanched before her brain shoved the thought into the darkest corner she could find.

“Go on, _Hermione_.” Tom purred. “Tell him about the dirty little secret I gained in exchange for giving you your precious little answers. Don’t you think he has a right to know?”

Hermione’s head snapped Tom’s direction. “Don’t you _dare.”_

“Secret, what secret?” Harry’s brows tugged together as turned his green orbs towards Tom. “What could you know that I don’t?”

“The best kind of things.” Tom’s features darkened and the red tone in his eyes flickered with excitement. “Pity that you don’t remember, I am sure the experience was positively _delicious_.”

“ _Tom._ ” Her tone of voice came out with a rumble of rage. “That is enough.”

“ _Tom_.” The words left his tongue with a delighted hiss. “Here I thought you said that you didn’t want to get familiar with me, Hermione.”

“What is he talking about Hermione?” It was all rage, a sound that burned like a blue flame and Harry had directed it all towards her.

“Nothing.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him anymore.

“Come now Mr.Potter,” Tom’s dropped his gaze to make a slow, longing, sweep across her body. The dark hunger in his eyes was almost enough to make her squirm. “The memory is in there somewhere.”

“Tom, I said that is enough.” Hermione could feel dread weighing down upon her shoulders, she was trapped and the anxiety of it was causing her to panic. She knew what Tom was doing. He had discovered her weakness and he was playing it to his advantage. He was doing this for the sheer thrill of watching her squirm.

“Now Hermione, surely you understand how much of a travesty it must be for Mr.Potter. To forget the thrill of rich, _naked_ skin dancing against your own.” Tom had moved to stand in front of her, blocking out the light of his cell. It cast his form in an eerie darkness and made the darkness in his eyes lighten like that of an animal at night. He had never looked so monstrous in her eyes before this moment. The feeling, despite the glass berroir between them, that he could swallow her whole dawned on her like the voluminous song of a grand bell. “To forget the taste of her lingering against your senses, or how _sweet_ she must have sounded.”

Breath had gone missing from her lungs as the intensity of Tom’s words began to sink into her skin. It swarmed her senses and settled into her core like a parasite. All she could see was the vision of that man in her dreams, the one that made her beg and shake with need. The images were beginning to drown her with a horrifying sense of need.

She had been wrong. This had had gotten _so_ much worse.

The silence ringing in her ears was louder than any storm. She drew in a deep breath and gathered her courage like a stiff board against her spine. The pivot she made in  Harry’s direction was slow and carefully calculated, she could not risk setting him off by looking guilty, she had to get ahold of this situation before Tom forced Harry into another episode.

She wanted to be shocked by the look of disbelief in his green eyes, but she could not find the ability to. She had known what this knowledge would do to him. There was no easy way for Harry to process the fact he had actually made a, rather rough, move on her… or the fact she had _almost_ given into it.

“It wasn’t like _that,_ Harry.” She replied softly. “You weren't in the right state of mind and I stopped it before things got too out of hand.”

“Too out of hand?” The dangerous quiet in his vocals was as off putting as it was threatening.

“Yes.”

“Such a naughty girl.” Tom’s laughter had her forcing the air from her chest. She could only close her eyes and grit her teeth to keep herself from caving in to his taunts. “You never did tell me when you made him stop.” The man mused. “I am ever so curious to know now.”

“ _Stop_ -” The growl leaving Harry’s chest was thunderous.  How much she was beginning to see Tom’s darker side poking out through Harry’s actions was causing a worry to settle deep in her bones. “talking, Riddle.”

She needed to get Harry out of here, _now_ , before this situation got even  worse.

“Temper, Temper.” Tom chuckled. “Not that I blame you, I would be positively livid if I realized I had forgotten something as tempting as fucking her too.”

“You son of a _bitch!”_

Shit!

Hermione had to throw herself between Harry and the wall to keep him from smashing into its surface. “ _Harry_ , stop it!” She stumbled under his weight but kept her hands firmly pressed against his chest. “You are just giving him what he wants. He isn’t worth it!”

“Ouch, pet,” Tom was slowly retreating towards his cot, his face doused with a sick sense of pleasure. “I think you hurt my feeling.”

 _Feeling_ . Hermione scoffed internally. He was being fair at least in  naming the fact he had only _one_ , but she hardly doubted it was the type of feeling that could get hurt.

“Harry, lets go home.” She let out a sigh of relief when she felt him take a step away from her grip. All she could do at this point was ignore Tom’s existence, talking to him further would only encourage him to act out. “This is a conversation best had in private.”

“Fine.” Harry didn’t  bother to even look at her before he turned away and began stalking down the hall.

“I want my answer, Tom.” Hermione turned cold eyes in his direction, completely annoyed by how comfortable he looked laying on that cot.

“You will have to settle for a hint.” He smirked, opening one eye to savour her anger.

“ _Fine_ , give me my hint.” She retorted bitterly.

“You can find the answer in every line.”

  


~*~

  


Nothing had been said between them the whole ride back to Hermione’s house. He _couldn’t_ say anything, not without feeling the need to lose himself to the anger. It bubbled like an acid against his flesh, it burned a deep dark hole inside and revived a darkness he had never realized existed. Something told him that Hermione knew that it existed, it was probably yet _another_ thing she had kept from him. Just another thing she believed she was ‘protecting’ him from.

Harry angrily looked up from his position against the wall and eyed the way she leaned tiredly against the kitchen counter. “ _Why_ ?” he managed to bite out. “ _Why_ would you keep that from me, but tell _him_.”

“I did not tell him,” Hermione snapped back. “The man wasn’t a world renowned psychologist for _nothing,_ Harry. Riddle figured it out on his own by simply observing our behaviors.”

“How?” Harry pushed himself from the wall and closed in on her. He watched as she went more rigid the closer he got. He hated it. He hated all of this. Riddle was right, the whole idea of him forgetting such an event made him positively livid. “I didn’t even know it happened!”

“He figured out you were attracted to me the first day I met him.” Hermione raised her chin and straightened her back despite the fact Harry knew she was intimidated by their current position. “He also realized how guarded I was. He dropped the whole theory on me last night. I simply did not deny it so that I could get information I needed.”

The threat to lose control smashed against his senses with the force of a raging sea. His eyes narrowed down on her form. He had never felt the desire to lose control with Hermione before… at least… not that he could _remember_ and that thought alone was almost enough to make him stumble over that ledge.

“I deserved to know!”

“You did not need the stress of that situation weighing down on your shoulders, Harry!” She attempted to shove him out of her vicinity but only discovered how unmoving he could be. She grunted with frustration before continuing. “You have enough things on your plate.”

“That should have been my decision to make!” Harry roared back. His whole body was shaking. He simply could not believe Hermione, the girl he had known since they were children, would keep something so important from him. He could have ruined _everything_ between them and not known what happened. Hell he could also have drove their relationship into something far more tantalizing and not even known it that it had happened. 

He had almost had something he had desired for years. So many times he had almost caved into the need and now he was learning that he had actually felt her under his bloody fingers and couldn’t remember a _fucking_ second of it!

“Harry,” Her eyes darted across his face with a flicker of guilt. “Look, I am sorry. I was only trying to protect you.”

He didn’t want her protection, the anger cementing into his veins made that fact extremely clear. No he wanted everything else about her. He wanted to remember what it was like to have her skin moulding into the palm of his hands. He wanted to see that vision of her from this morning in a more welcoming light.

He just wanted _her_ and he was tired of just waiting for it to happen.

Harry ignored the squeak of surprise rushing past her lips before he found himself devouring the sound. His fingers locked themselves deep into her mass of curls and pulled her lips against his in a manner that almost hurt. He was simply so _angry_ that he couldn’t find it in himself to be kind anymore.

“Harry.” She gasped against his mouth.

The sound of his name on her tongue made the hunger deepen with a longing rumble through his bones. He needed to hear more, hell- he needed to taste more of her first because _nothing_ had ever tasted sweeter. 

His arm snaked itself around her waist, yanking her small form tightly against his own before lifting her to sit on top of the counter. It was just the right height to have her flush against him, and this time he wasn’t going to let the moment flash by without his knowledge.

“Harry, _stop_.” She ground out. “Your only doing this because you angry-”

“Hermione,” He snapped before she could finish. “For once just _shut up_.”

Then he kissed her all over again.

  


~*~

  


Tom rested his back against the wall as he lounged on his bed. Today had turned out be much more amusing than he could have ever imagined. Harry learning about his little slip up with the girl had left Tom in awe of the absolute rage bursting free from the shell he harboured.

The boy truly was unstable, and not in the way Tom had first believed. He had thought Harry to be _weak_. That he would break down and completely empty if he was  continuously pushed, but ‘the boy who lived’, lived with a demon inside himself.

A demon that Tom was, almost, willing to believe he had planted himself.

Then there was Hermione. Sweet, _defiant_ , Hermione. Her answer had been exhilarating, and it sent a thrill of hunger through his skin. He wanted to watch her fall into his web, wanted to watch her struggle in the tight hold he now had on her person. His little game with her was only beginning and already he was getting more thrill out of it than he had in years.

There was more to it, something had occurred and she was desperate  to leave it unsaid but he had seen it flicker in her dark honey eyes. He would have to confront her about the matter on a later date, but there was no denying it.

He had seen _lust_ in her eyes, and Tom was determined to be the one who claimed it.

  
  



	9. One way or Another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sooooo much Weestarmeggie, I absolutely love you for Beta'ing for me! I would be lost without you.

### Chapter 8

 _“You can't play god without being acquainted with the devil”_ ****  
** **

**_-Ford, WestWorld_ **

 

_~*~_

****

Hermione allowed a low groan to leave the cavern of her mouth as her head fell into the countless pages spread across her floor. She couldn’t think- which was, in no way, okay with her. Any thought she tried to process got caught in a net of memories. They crashed relentlessly against her conscience, beating the soft tissue of her brain until her head throbbed and her thoughts became useless. ****  
** **

It was not okay. ****  
** **

Slowly Hermione dragged her head up from the floor and took in the pages with a forlorn nature. How lost she felt was absolutely pitiful. She could feel the muscles in her jaw tighten the more that nagging occurrence stabbed away at the back of her mind, demanding to be acknowledged and accepted. Screaming about- ****  
** **

No. Nope and more no. ****  
** **

Her fingers sunk beneath her curls and scraped against her scalp. Not being able to concentrate was the most infuriating thing she could possibly experience. She needed to work. She had her clue. She almost had the answers- but she couldn’t clear her mind enough to figure them out! ****  
** **

She smothered a scream into the floor and only allowed herself to roll onto her back when all the air had left her lungs. It wasn’t right. She was not _this_ girl. She was the brainy girl who no one had eyes for. Now… well… now she did not know what the hell was going on. ****  
** **

She could deal with Riddle’s toying, he was behind bars. Harry, on the other hand, she had no idea how she was supposed to deal with _that_ little situation. Dating- no, _men,_ were just not a subject she was knowledgeable in. She never had time for them. She was too busy with school, with trying to be the best and brightest. ****  
** **

There had been a time she tried with a boy name Ronald, but she quickly learned how little they had in common. He constantly played on her pet peeves and was far too busy caring about the next sports event than to care about their relationship. Not that she had been much better- she had been too busy with school.  ****  
** **

It would have never of worked out in the end. ****  
** **

“Fucking hell, kitten,” A low whistle followed the entrance of Sirius’s voice. She never thought she would be so thankful to hear his voice before, but she was truly in need of a distraction. It had been _days_ and not a single answer had come to her and there was so much wrong with that fact that it was disgusting. “Tell me that this is not how you spend your days?” ****  
** **

A single brow lifted at his words. “I was mapping out the events.” She hushed defensively. ****  
** **

“Most people post a board, kitten, not lay the files out on their floor and roll around in them.” Sirius made a careful circle around the blanket of files and sunk into her kitchen. “It is murder sweetheart, not lottery money” ****  
** **

“Ha. Ha.” Hermione bit out sarcastically as the expression fell from her features. “You’re hilarious.” ****  
** **

“I try.” A grin split his face as he leaned heavily against her counter.  ****  
** **

“Don’t tease, Sirius,” Hermione forced herself not to suck in a breath when Harry came into full view. There was a warmth spread across his face, something she had not seen in a while. He must have slept well. She almost felt guilty when she instantly avoided the was his green eyes caught her own. “It is a part of her process.” ****  
** **

“And, how _is_ progress coming?” Sirius drawled and Harry placed the tray of coffee’s down on the counter next to him. Hermione almost couldn’t hear his laughter past the groan leaving her lips. “That well, eh?” ****  
** **

“You have no idea.” She sighed. It was horrible, she had gotten nowhere on these riddles… she didn’t even know where to start. She had yet to understand how to apply Riddle’s hint let alone figure out the damn riddle itself. She needed a break or something to make her mind switch gears at least. She was getting nowhere at this rate.  ****  
** **

Hermione eyed Harry carefully as he came to stand in front of her. Slowly he reached out and extended the coffee for her to take. “You’re going to need this.” ****  
** **

Hesitantly she took the cup from his fingers. “Why?” She could feel the skin on her brow bunch as her mind began to ponder what could have possibly brought them to her home. They obviously were not there for a visit.  ****  
** **

“There has been another murder.” Sirius’ voice had lost it’s good humor, instead it was heavy with an unpleasant darkness. That was never a good thing. Something about this murder was worse than the others, something about it had set Sirius off and that thought alone was off putting. ****  
** **

They did not need to say more. Hermione left her maze of paper’s and allowed herself to be swept into line beside the men she had known her whole life. She found comfort in their proximity, the fact they were leaving the comforts of her home for the monstrosity of a crime scene made no change to that fact. ****  
** **

She spent the ride settled in the back seat, away from both of their prying eyes. The world passed by her window with a cunning breeze and she let her mind flutter along with it. It made the trip short.  ****  
** **

Hermione could not help but drag her feet towards the crime scene once they arrived. She was definitely not in the right state of mind to be there , trying to pick apart the details. She felt useless and she hadn’t even stepped over the threshold of the home yet. ****  
** **

Slowly Hermione drew in one deep breath, shutting the world out to her deep caramel gaze. The darkness worked to settle the daze, and her breath settled the anxious sizzle of her nerves. Once her breath released she set her shoulders and moved to follow Harry into the home. ****  
** **

“Hold it.” The voice jolted Harry and Hermione into a stiff pause and their eyes fell on a stern looking man with a clipboard firmly clutched between his fingers. “You want to enter that room you have to sign in.” ****  
** **

Hermione’s brows creased at the idea. Sign in? Why on earth was Albus requiring everyone to sign into the crime scene, there had been no such protocol the last time.  ****  
** **

“Why?” Harry voiced before she did.  ****  
** **

He had changed these last few days. He seemed less timid and quick to jump into the heat of things. She would have been happy for the change had she not bore witness to the darkness that ignited this fire.  ****  
** **

Shaking her head she took the pen from the board and scrawled her name across the page. “I am sure Albus has his reason Harry.” Her lips twisted to one side as she forced herself to speak passed the distaste for this turn of events. ****  
** **

This could only mean terrible things. ****  
** **

Harry glared down at the paper the whole time he proceeded to fill out the necessary work. He disliked the situation as much as she did. In fact, his scowl only increased when Sirius strolled passed them without a peep from the man forcing them to sign the papers. ****  
** **

“Why don’t you have to sign in?” Harry scoffed as he fell in line with his Godfather.  ****  
** **

“He has taken over as head investigator under Dumbledore.” Hermione provided with a suspicious drawl. The head investigator was not the first to be replaced, if she remembered correctly Albus had also replaced Slughorn with Snape. Hell, there might have even been other replacements that she had not noticed.  ****  
** **

“Is there anything you don’t miss, Kitten?” Sirius chucked as they entered the home.  ****  
** **

“Plenty.” She muttered more to herself the anyone. She felt like she was missing everything as of lately. She was missing something about this killer. Something about Albus’s actions. She was even missing something about Harry’s new behaviors. She was falling behind and it was not something she was accustomed to.  ****  
** **

Tom Riddle has sent her round the bend, and she had come out effected.  ****  
** **

“About time,” a gruff voice rounded the corner and caused Hermione to pause mid step. “We were getting impatient waiting on the lot of you. The grounds have been processed already we are just waiting for your opinions at this point.”  ****  
** **

Remus?  ****  
** **

Her eyes flashed as she took in the man walking towards them. He had been her professor some years ago and later a colleague. They had worked many crime scenes together over the years, so his presence was not overly surprising, but the circumstances were.  ****  
** **

_Another_ replacement, but whose? ****  
** **

Her eyes skirted across his face, taking in the tired bags under his eyes and the irritation of the scars across his face. Though the scars were old, caused by a wolf attack in his childhood, they would often react to his stress. Life was beating him down, so his being here was not out of choice but obligation.  ****  
** **

“Remus,” She found the hushed surprise left her mouth with a distinct hiss. “What are you doing here, you are supposed to be on parental leave with Dora.”  ****  
** **

The man spared her a half hearted smile before scrubbing a hand across his tired face. “Yes, well, I am afraid the stakes have changed, Hermione.”  ****  
** **

Harry’s gaze had been dancing across the room, his attention already diverted. He was silently tracing the steps their killer could have made before settling his gaze down the hall. “Bedroom?”   ****  
** **

Remus nodded sullenly as Harry set off down the hall. Harry had not even waited for full confirmation before taking long strides towards his destination. “How is he doing?” Remus did not remove his eyes from Harry’s retreating form as he began to question Hermione.  ****  
** **

“Physically?” She sighed tiredly. “Wonderful, his anxiety has decreased dramatically and his sleep has been nightmare free. _But_ , it has been replaced with a fluctuation of careless behavior.” She turned to capture the dark flicker in Sirius blue eyes, knowing all too well what the growing question in his mind was. “His encounters with Riddle have been… changing him.” ****  
** **

“That bastard.” Sirius growled. 

“What was Albus thinking?” Remus’s anger was less pronounced than his best-friend’s but it was still very obvious to Hermione. “Nothing good will come out of entertaining _Riddle_.” 

That was something all three of them could agree on.  ****  
** **

With one last nip against her cheek Hermione forced a smile to her lips and turned towards Remus. “Well,” Her voice was tight, raspy from worry. “Guide the way.”  ****  
** **

Remus didn’t answer, instead he began to journey to fallow Harry down the long and spacious halls. ****  
** **

Whoever this victim was, they had a lot of money. Thy were important and high in society. The killer was sparing no niceties about this killing. This victim was more high risk, easily missed. They had taken a grandstand with this killing. The bedroom itself was just as gorgeous as the rest of the home. It’s wall and carpet draped in plush white and gleaming golds. There was a small seating area by the window, filling what otherwise would be empty space. 

As disgusting as it sounded in her mind, the layout of the kill was… beautiful. The killer made sure it _was_ beautiful. ****  
** **

The body was curled in the center on the floor on a bed of flowers. It created a perfect circle around her, cradling her seemingly peaceful form. She had died in a similar manner as the last victim, brutally maimed and tortured, but the killer took the time to clean her up after. Took the time to place her inside the art they created.  ****  
** **

The riddle moved in a continuous circle around the victim and was underlined by the display of flowers. Hermione began a slowly circle to decipher the spiral of words painted onto the floor.  ****  
** **

This was different. This was _special_ . The killer changed their tactic, the riddles and murders turned from horrific view to an artistic display.  ****  
** **

Why? What could have possibly changed?  ****  
** **

The victim was of higher standing and treated with higher respect than the lower class victims. The lower class had been treated like vermin. That meant that the killer themselves was of high society, but why had they changed victims? Why switch to their own social standing? ****  
** **

There had to be a reason. Hermione’s head dipped to one side as she finally put the words into a continuous sentence.

****

_Acknowledge that I am not wicked_

_but understand am I lost_

_I am not temptation but in it’s reflection_

_Lonely but never forgotten._

_  
_ _What am I?_

****

The riddle tumbled from her lips over and over, as if saying it would make her understand. She could feel something tingle at the edge of her mind, but she could not place what it was. Was it a word she could taste on the tip of her tongue but could not put sound to or was it an idea? She couldn’t tell. ****  
** **

“Not temptation,” She drawled. “But it’s reflection?” ****  
** **

“Love.” Remus pitched from her side. The sound of his voice brought a smile to her lips, despite the circumstances, it was great to have him here to bounce ideas off of. Her old professor smiled back down at her before he stuffed his hand back into his pockets. “The _‘reflection’_ of temptation is typically love.” ****  
** **

“Normally I would agree with you.” Hermione exhaled as her thoughts began to weigh heavy on her shoulders. “Except this killer is beyond normal. It’s like they _know_ that we know what the flowers mean, like there are using this riddle to throw us off by making the answer to appear obvious.” ****  
** **

“Hermione is right.” All eyes fell on Harry who had managed to make his way to the center of the spiral and stood over the corpse with a morbid understanding. “This particular kill was important, not the victim but this-” Harry could only bite out the word as his face twisted with disgust. “ _Gifting,_ means something. It means _more_ than the others, so they are taking particular care of it. They would not be sloppy enough to make the riddle easy, but they would be sly enough to make it seem so.” ****  
** **

“The flowers play a large role in this particular picture as well.” Hermione added.  ****  
** **

“This murder expresses their love more than the rest, but why?” Remus’s hand took to  the back of his neck in order to rub out the strain of his shoulders, she hated knowing that the idea alone was enough to make his body go rigid. It was- the whole situation was horrible. Remus should not be there, he should be at home with his wife and newborn child, but Albus was continuing to fire people and bringing in replacements.  ****  
** **

All of them were a part of Albus’ old investigation team. People he trusted, people who helped him finally track down Riddle and put him behind bars. It was beginning to cement a fear as to why he would do such a thing into her stomach.  ****  
** **

The killer seemed to know their every move, surely they couldn’t be apart of their investigation team… could they? Maybe the killer had connections, or perhaps the team had a leak? ****  
** **

“This gift was meant to been seen by its intended.” The room fell into silence as they processed Harry’s new revelation. “It is artistic and carefully laid out. The killer made it beautiful because they wanted the viewer to understand the beauty and depth of their love. ” ****  
** **

“That is not love,” Sirius scoffed bitterly. “This is _obsession_ .” ****  
** **

Hermione found herself sucking in a breath, that constricted her lungs - unable to release. The killer was obsessed. It wasn’t love. The gears of her mind began to tremble under the pressure of her building thoughts. The answer was there. She could feel it! “Say that again!” Hermione rounded on Sirius. Her deep caramel eyes were wild with desperation as she searched his face in plea. ****  
** **

“This is obsession?” ****  
** **

“No!” Hermione bit out. “The other thing.” ****  
** **

“That is not love?” ****  
** **

“It is not _love…_ ”  She returned her gaze to the floor and scraped up the words “It is _not_ love.” She repeated. ****  
** **

Not wicked? Am lost? Not temptation but reflection? Lonely but never forgotten? ****  
** **

“Hermione?” She knew that Remus was probably watching her with worry,  if his voice was any indication, but she did not have time to look. ****  
** **

_Wicked- Lost_ . The pattern was there. _Temptation- Reflection_ .  She could feel it but could not quite see it. _Lonely- Forgotten._ ****  
** **

Not...am?  ****  
** **

Hermione’s brows pinched as she found herself staring down at those particular words. You are. You aren't. How can something be lonely but _never_ forgotten? That did not make sense… unless… well unless it isn’t actually a _thing_ . ****  
** **

“The answer is in every line.” A breathy laugh began to pour freely from her mouth the more Riddle’s words echoed in the cavern of her mind. A flare of rage began pump fire through her system as his words began to make sense. “You clever _bastard_ .” ****  
** **

“Every line?” Harry’s eyes dropped to the ground in an attempt to come to the same conclusion.  ****  
** **

Hell, he might even discover it before her brain stopped attacking her with bitterness. She wanted to spit. She felt like a fool. She should have seen this ages ago. She needed the rest of the files. She needed her paper to completely prove her theory to be fact. ****  
** **

 

 _“-They will become a letter to whom they are killing for?”_ ****  
** **

_“You are_ **_so_ ** _close, Hermione.”_

****

That bastard had been dropping hints the whole _bloody_ time and she never noticed _!_ ****  
** **

“Hermione,” Remus placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her back into the present. “What is it?” ****  
** **

“I feel like such a fool!” Hermione spat venomously. “He practically gave me the answer and I didn’t-” ****  
** **

“ _Whoa_ now, kitten. ” Sirius was closer than he had been, close enough to touch but she couldn’t take her eyes off the riddle. “Take a deep breath and catch us up with where you are.” ****  
** **

“Acknowledge that I am _not_ wicked, but understand that I _am_ lost. _Not_ temptation _but_ reflection. Lonely but _never_ forgotten.” Hermione scoffed. ****  
** **

“So,” Harry sniffed irritably. “What does lost, reflection and lonely have in common, but wicked, temptation and forgotten do not?” ****  
** **

 

 _They_ **_become_ ** _a letter -_ ****  
** **

_You are_ **_so_ ** _close, Hermione._ ****  
** **

 

“They _are_ a letter.” Hermione growled.  ****  
** **

The flash in Harry’s eyes let her know that he reached the same conclusion. “ _‘L’_ .” It tumbled from his lips and sounded a secret he feared to speak. A lost whisper on his tongue that hid the monstrosities this small answer could invoke. 

“The _letter_ ‘L’.” She agreed. “The killer is spelling out a name.”

****

**_~*~_ **

****

The ruffle of pages beneath Tom’s fingers smoothed a calmness into his bones. It was blissful to have a _real_ book. He had reread the book a few dozen times since he had received it from Hermione. ****  
** **

He almost did not wish to give it back, he doubted that he would be seeing such good material again anytime soon. She was his only source of good material and he was unwilling to stop getting answers from her for the sake of another book. ****  
** **

No. He would have to return it eventually and suffer through the fact he had nothing to replace it with.  ****  
** **

A man made himself known by clearing his throat. The sound would normally grate on Tom’s nerves, but today was different. He was positive nothing was going to change his good mood. “Doctor Riddle.”  ****  
** **

“Rodolphus.” Tom acknowledged in return.  ****  
** **

The man did everything in his power to shove his authority in Tom’s face, today would be no better. “You have been speaking to them.” His voice was thick with an unspoken anger. Tom felt a quake of laughter dance though his chest. “How many times must we do this Riddle, when will you learn that you aren't the one in charge in here?” ****  
** **

A slick brow rose as Tom pulled his gaze from his book and towards the large man on the other side of the glass wall. “Worried what they might find, Rodolphus?” ****  
** **

Rodolphus jaw set in a jagged line as attempted to intimidate Tom with his voice alone. “You _will_ end this little arrangement you have with the girl, Riddle.” A dangerous smile wound Tom’s lips as the man staring him down began to lose his composure. “Is that understood?” ****  
** **

“Understood.” He answered with a low chuckle. “I will no longer speak of the case when the girl comes to see me here.” ****  
** **

“Good.” ****  
** **

Rodolphus was a fool and a coward. He stood strong and spoke threats from behind that glass of his. Tom knew the truth, Rodolphus _feared_ him and that fear behind violence. He acted out simply because he believed Tom could not act out in return. ****  
** **

He was so, _very_ wrong. ****  
** **

A melodus hum began to trickle from Tom’s lips as he began tracing the words of the book in his hands. The creamy pages, while darkened with age, were a luxury he cherished. The papers age made the book much more wonderful. He found knowledge and beauty in the lyrical pattern of words. These were one of the few things that Tom found he cherished.  ****  
** **

The sound of his began to pick up pace. It was almost eerie how the sound began to ripple off the walls and make a harmounus tune around him. ****  
** **

Tom’s grin grew as his thoughts trickled back to the books owner. _Hermione_ . Rodolphus was threatened by the girl, by her brilliance and he was right to  be. Tom knew that it would not take long for her to figure out the riddles now that she had her clue. ****  
** **

“ _One way,”_ Tom sang softly. “ _Or another, I’m gonna find you.”_  His hands slipped behind his neck and he allowed his eyes to fall close. The board was set and everything was in the exact place he needed it. All his pawns were ready. They were waiting for his command. So it was about time he made his move.  ** **  
****

Besides.  ****  
** **

Tom’s eyes opened with a ripple of red. He had a book to return. ****  
** **

“ _I’m gonna get you.”_

 


	10. It is Urizen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to my beautiful Beta Weestarmeggie. <3  
> I love you and everything you have done to help me. :)
> 
> Join me on Tumblr! @shadowedcries.  
> I release snippets, riddle games, one shots, pictures and what have you. Lots of fun. :P
> 
> Hope you guys like the new chapter.  
> oh and.... PS-shites going to get crazy after this. ;)  
> Enjoy!

###  **Chapter 9**

“People often believed they were safer in the light, thinking monsters only came out at night.”

―C.JJ. Roberts,Captive in the Dark

 

**~*~**

 

Harry was seething. His insides burned with a cold flame that left his skin itching with a false sweat. So he bit his tongue and glared into the distance of the conference room. The longer he stayed on this case the more familiar faces popped up. Old friends of Sirius’- of his parents- that worked on the force with them. They were the famous team for gaining all the appropriate evidence against Tom Riddle, they were the reason he got a triple life sentence.

He should be grateful for their help, but right now he wanted to snap. They were giving him credit for everything. They were certain that it was Harry and Harry alone who had figured out the killer’s clue and put it into perspective. Him who figured out the riddle and what it meant.

They were _wrong_.

It was _Hermione_ . She had discovered everything along the way. It was her who found out how to make Riddle talk, her who found out what the flowers meant. She was the one to figure out the bloody riddle and what its purpose was, yet- Harry bit back a scoff- here they were, everyone’s eyes drifting to _him_ for answers.

He was special, so obviously he was the only one who mattered.

Harry had finally picked Albus apart, like the haze of light had been stripped from his eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t Harry’s own eyes he was seeing the man through, there was a chance he was watching through Riddle or Hermione, as neither of them had grand opinions on Dumbledore, but Harry hated what he saw.

Dumbledore was manipulating them all, he was directing this investigation towards a specific outcome but Harry could not figure out what it was exactly. All Harry could agree with, was that  Albus Dumbledore was making sure Harry stayed in the limelight.

His jaw clenched as he tried to force the cloud of rage inside his lungs to disappear. There was only one thing in this room that could calm him and he was unable to do much more than watch her from afar.

Green eyes dropped from the distant hole he was burning into the wall and fell on the bundle of, hardly contained, curls laying atop his friend’s head. A smirk quirked the edge of his lips as another strand busted loose from the band holding them back.

Hermione had countless papers spread out in front of her and desperately she scanned through each. Answers had come to her but her mind was too occupied to inform the rest of them exactly what those answers were.

“Today, Miss Granger.” Harry’s eyes narrowed at the harsh drawl of Snape. He didn’t understand why the damn man was even present, he had no business in this meeting. Snape dealt with bodies- not the actual case load.

The flash in Hermione’s eyes was hard not to notice. Her scowl deepened and she forced herself into a straighter sitting position. “Forgive me, I was checking my notes.” She stated stiffly. “The riddles changed once Harry joined the team. So, logically, it lead me to believe that is where we needed to start.”

“Go on then, Hermione.” Remus smiled gently at her, obviously trying to coax the tense posture out of her form. “Tell us what you have.”

Slowly Hermione began pushing enlarged photographs of the riddles across the table for rest of the group to see. Harry eyed the first and judged  the picture for the cleverness of the phrasing.

 

_In darkness I live_

_I am both death and desire_

_But feel I do not_

_I will act twice on your demand_

_For I am in servitude_

_But not sacrifice_

_What am I?_

 

Harry could not hold back the amused chuckle at the large metallic ‘ _D’_ underlined at the bottom of the photo. Hermione had been working to answer the Riddles without them . She dropped photo after photo on them, some with answers and others without. It wasn’t until she reached the most recent murder that she paused long enough to say something.

“The killer is signing the ‘for’ box in this imaginary gift.” She dropped the final picture in front of her and threaded her fingers together.

“How do you know they are not signing their own name?” Snape bit out before anyone else could. The dark man stared down his beak-like-nose at her, judging each movement like she was untrustworthy.

Harry was seriously starting to dislike this man as much as Sirius did.

“Shut up, Snivellus.” Sirius barked almost immediately after. Harry was thankful for his Godfather’s hatred in this moment, while Sirius also had moments of doubt towards Hermione, he did his best to understand and follow her train of thought. It was a task very few could conquer, but the man at least tried. “Continue, Kitten.”

“Sirius, Severus has every right to question Miss Granger if he doubts her ability.” Albus hushed the man almost sternly, his voice contrasting the glimmer in his eyes. With a smile Dumbledore returned his attention to Hermione. “How is it you came to this conclusion?”

“It seems rather redundant to sign your own name on a murder.” Harry murmured quietly, his eyes narrowed at the men at the end of the table as he bit out the words.

“Killer’s can be arrogant, Harry.” Albus stated softly. “They could believe they are too smart to be captured, so that theory cannot be immediately dismissed.”

“Recheck my work if you must,” She snipped tensely before continuing, “but, so far I believe we have three of the five remaining riddles.” She turned her tired caramel eyes towards the two photos with nothing written on them and continued. “My work has lead me to believe these are a ‘ _D’_ and an  ‘ _O’_. Then, of course, we have the letter ‘ _L’_ that lead us to this discovery in the first place. What we need to do is focus on the remaining two.”

“Hermione,” Harry caught the quiet whisper of Remus before his hand dropped to her shoulder. The man’s brows were drawn with worry. “When was the last time you slept?”

Harry was disappointed when she did not bother to acknowledge their old professor and instead shrugged his hand from her shoulder. Harry realized quickly that Remus was right. She had heavy bags under her eyes and her skin seemed dull. His head quirked to the side before looking down at the remaining riddles.

 

_I am what begins eternity_

_But resides at the end of time._

_You find me in Death,_

_But it is life I follow._

_What am I?_

 

A stab of worry pulsed through Harry’s chest. She should have been able to figure this out. Adrenaline coursed through his skin when he took in the remaining riddle. He could not have snatched it’s photo from the table fast enough.

 

_Look at me,_

_I’m the third horseman you’ll meet_

_The first bringer of misery._

_find me in damnation and you’ll see,_

_I just might be,_

_your first taste of mortality_

_What am I?_

 

This one too. These damn riddles seemed so simple now that they had the key, why had she not put them together like she had the last few?

A scoff fell from Snape’s mouth when he gazed down at the pages. “Is that insufferable, know-it-all, brain of yours failing you, Miss Granger?” The words were bitter. Harry knew, better than the rest, how much damage that toxic sound could inflict on Hermione’s current state. “Or are you just admitting that you need Potter to do all of the work for you?”

Harry did not believe silence could be so painful. Hermione’s face had gone blank as she stared Snape down. The woman who defended herself against everything- who stood strong in the wake of the Riddle’s intimidation- was not retaliating. A slow nod tipped her head before she came to a sluggish stand.

“If you would _excuse_ me,” There was nothing to her voice, like she had become lost in a single-minded tone. “It seems my services are no longer welcome. Good luck with the rest of your investigation, Gentlemen.”

Harry’s heart leapt into his throat when Hermione turned her back on them and began heading towards the door. “Hermione, wait!” He moved to stand with her but found himself stumbling when she caught him with a murderous glare.

“Why?” She snapped. “So I can be underappreciated and belittled more?”

“That’s not true, Kitten.” Sirius stood too, his eyes soft and his face fallen. “Of course we appreciat-”

“Really?” She interjected before his Godfather could finish. “Because I did not see a single one of you speak up when the two of them began to tear me down. You say you respect me but do you have enough respect to stand up to Albus Dumbledore- or Snape for anything more than your _petty_ dislike of the man- when they do me wrong? ”

Harry opened his mouth to speak but found the words caught in his throat. He had been angry at them yes, but why had he not stood up for her? The moment Dumbledore spoke against her no one stood against him. Guilt buried itself deep inside his gut when he averted her questioning gaze.

She waited, but he couldn’t find the words. He only found shame. Hermione sucked in a breath at his dismissal and all Harry could do was watch as the guilt also began to sink into both Sirius’ and Remus’ faces. She didn’t wait long after that, in fact, a darkness descended across her face before she snarked out one last remark.

“That’s what I thought.”

 

**~*~**

 

Water pelted off the edges of her skin as she stared blankly down at her feet. The shower drowned out the internal screaming and the steam was holding together the frayed edges of her emotions. She leaned heavier into her hand, allowing the water to fall directly across the back of her head. This way she could at least pretend the furious tears rushing down her cheeks were one with the stream.

That _bastard_.

She should have seen it sooner… Remus had been her replacement. Dumbledore finally got what he wanted. He got rid of her. Albus had been trying to be rid of her existence since he requested Harry’s assistance. Hell, his persistent nature only doubled when she put herself on the case.

She should have seen it coming, honestly. He had already replaced five of the investigative team with members of his old team. She meant nothing to them. She had no sway in the thick of things. No, she was just Hermione Granger - the extra that came with Harry Potter.

A furious cry came tumbling from her lungs and her fist came thundering against her wall. She was so sick of their attitude and their discrimination, she just snapped. What the hell was she thinking? She’d just abandoned her best friend in a fit of rage, now he was alone with that…that… _manipulative_ son of a bitch.

Hermione could feel the anger leak from her soul with each tear that trickled down her cheeks. She felt so pathetic crying over something like this, but it seemed like her temper couldn’t be released in any other way. As it gently lifted from her bones it left behind something exhausted in its wake. Her muscles ached and her head throbbed. She released a baited breath as her silent despair finally washed free from her mind.

She wondered if she should be worried if Harry was equipped enough to handle this himself. Perhaps he could, he wasn’t alone anymore, both Sirius and Remus were there to protect him. There was a chance she really wasn’t needed anym-

Her thoughts tumbled to a stop when the curtain next to her swayed with movement. Her head snapped to the fabric and watched it wearily. With hesitance, she reached towards the tap and turned the water off. She found she couldn’t take her eyes away from the white screen and searched for any signs or shapes of another presence.

With one quick snap Hermione snapped back the curtain but found nothing on the other side.

“Hello?” Hermione sunk her toes into the plush bath mat as she called out for confirmation. She was quick to wrap the towel around her body before stepping out into her hallway. “Harry?”

The pads of her feet hit the floor softly as she lowered her weight with a hesitant ease. She slowed her breathing until it paused deep in her chest to listen as closely as she could. There had been something, or someone. There is no way that movement had been nothing. “Hello, is an-”

A yelp forced itself free of her mouth as a small creature came bounding in from behind her. The orange cat brushed against her leg as it dashed down the hall. “Damn it, crookshanks,” She hissed at the cat who gave her an uncaring stare. “you scared the ever living shite out of me.”

The cat yowled in reply before it bounded down the stairs and far from her view.

“Honestly.” A sigh followed her words and she yanked her bedroom door open with more exasperation than needed. Damn cat ruined her shower and scared her out of her wits.

Hermione ran her fingers through her curls in a poor attempt to salvage the mess they would become. She hated the frizz with a passion. Nothing could be achieved with the mess on her head, other than hope it would stay in a bun long enough to remain professional. She exhausted all resources and products she could find : the strongest, the most expensive and still achieved nothing.

She should just shave the horrid mass off, then maybe she would get some relief. Hermione held back a snort. Who was she kidding, there was no way in hell that she could cut it off, her hair probably would break the scissors.

The smile on her face slowly fell as she spotted a book resting on the edge of her bed. She didn’t leave a book out- She _never_ left books out. She handled them with care and put them away where they belonged.

Hermione found herself taking in the room with more attention than she had before, but found no other evidence of another presence. Nervously she approached the bound pages, her mind rearing with the possibilities. First it was something in her shower… now it was something in her room.

“ _Hermione_?” She inhaled sharply at the sound of Harry yelling from downstairs. Her heart sounded like a hammer beating a drum. Her hand cupped her chest to ease the thrum of the blood pounding through her veins.

Sweet _fucking_ hell, she swore everyone was out to kill her.

A heavy sigh fell from her lips as her shoulder slumped. Her eyes narrowed on the book as if the object was the bane of her existence. Harry was probably the one who put the book here and here she was thinking the worst. With one last huff Hermione snatched the book off her bed and flipped the cover to face her.

_‘The book of Urizen’._

Her body went slack at the sight. It wasn’t possible. Her skin prickled with fright as the numbness finally caused her to loose grip on it’s cover. The book plummeted from her fingers, but the cover still stared up at her mockingly.

“Hermione!” She could hear the panic in Harry’s voice now. “Hermion-” He cut off when he rounded her bedroom door.  She heard a sigh of relief leave his lungs when he saw her, but she could not feel that relief for herself. In fact, all she could feel was fear. “Thank god, you’re alright”

No. She knew what he was going to say and she didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want that fear confirmed.

“Riddle, he-” He bit the words back and distantly she could hear his hands shifting through his hair. He was on edge- nervous. Harry was scared to tell her. Not that he had too, she already knew. “He’s escaped, Hermione.”

She wanted to deny that possibility, but her eyes could not un-see the note attached to the cover of the book at her feet. It was written on her paper, with her pen.

_"‘Lo, a shadow of horror is risen_

_In Eternity! Unknown, unprolific,_

_Self-clos’d, all-repelling: what demon_

_Hath form’d this abominable void,_

_This soul-shudd'ring vacuum? Some said_

_“It is Urizen.” But unknown, abstracted,_

_Brooding, secret, the dark power hid."_

_Hermione, we will continue our little chat soon._

_Best regards, Tom Marvolo Riddle_

 

The breath shuttered from her lungs as she stared down at the haunting reality that note left behind. He had sat in her bed and wrote her a poem from the very book he had returned.

Harry was _wrong_ , she wasn’t alright at all.


	11. Ready or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are the most wonderful person Weestarmeggie, you do so much helping me edit the story. I love you girly!
> 
> Forewarning to everyone, this chapter gets reaaaaaaal dark at the end, slightly non con so be prepared. If you are not comfortable with that then perhaps try my fanfiction version, because the story will be softer on the smutty scenes there.  
> The link is:
> 
> Alright everyone, buckle up and let the games begin.

### Chapter 10

****

“Darkness is simply a piece of the whole, neither good nor evil unless you make it so.” ****  
** **

― **Jenna Maclaine** , **Bound By Sin**

****

**~*~**

****

Hermione and Harry had been sitting on her couch when the investigative team barreled through her front door. Concern made her scrunch her brows against the palm of her hand as the fury of men began scouring her home. One by one they began to tear through it. A stunned fury began to take seed in her heart.

No one had bothered to stop and get the story from her, they had just started… _looking_ . Her jaw clenched at the sheer nerve of it. Riddle had just invaded her home and _that's_ all that mattered to them?

Amidst of all the stress, Harry calmly rubbed her back. The act was soothing enough to keep her from snapping at the current company. Her curiosity peaked when his hand paused on her spine and bunched into a fist, twisting her shirt tightly within its hold. It spoke his hostility with abrupt clarity.

Her deep amber eyes tilted his direction to capture the look on his face. Harry’s eyes narrowed towards her front door and his back had gone rigid. His features twisted sourly at whatever it was he saw.

The breath caught in her throat as she watched the emerald of his eyes descend into a deep forest green. There was murder in his eyes. Her heart skipped with dread, nothing about the look on his face meant good things.

“Miss Granger.” She barely suppressed the groan when Albus Dumbledore made himself known.

“Albus.” She acknowledged his presence but refused to look up at him. Harry was obviously mad at the man for something and she had no doubt that, that something, involved her somehow.

“Can you walk me through the events of this evening?” He sounded a little too warm for her liking. Her eyes flickered to his face before she could stop herself. His lips quirked into an encouraging smile as he seated himself on the chair across from them.

It was suspicious.  

Her forehead wrinkled as she gave the elder man a quick once over. “After I left the meeting I came home and showered. I did not realize anything was amiss until I went into my room. It was there that I found the book and the note on my-”

“Albus,” Sirius cut in before Hermione could finish. “There is something you need to see.” Hermione did not miss the calculated look Sirius shot her way, like he was judging her innocence. The breath in her chest stumbled to a stop. Why would he look at her like that?

Unless…

Frantically Hermione pushed herself into a stand, her mind flooded with panic. There was no way Riddle could manage all of that beneath her nose. Right?

Attempting not step on the man heels, Hermione followed behind him as closely as she could. The echo of another set of footsteps alerted her to Harry’s presence. It seemed like he was all too determined not to leave her side. There was not enough time to think about why, her mind was racing with potential knowledge. She wanted it to be wrong, but the mass of people gathered outside her study made the possibilities low.

Their silent whispers filled her hall with a low buzz. That was never good. There was _definitely_ something wrong.

Her mind seized with the need to scream the moment they walked through the study doors. Her feet fell out from under her, forcing Harry to catch her mid stumble. Tremors began taking over her body, the tingle of the sensation left her skin cold. Unconsciously her fingers began to bite into the flesh of the arm Harry had wrapped around her waist. Her panic made her squeeze with all her might.

There was a man, carefully posed, in the center of the room. His chin was rested lazily on an open palm and his eyes fell blindly on the empty air… simply because there were no eyes to speak of. His muscles had long gone rigid but it had not been the  rigamortus that moulded his position but the long planks of steel that pierced various sections of his flesh.

The waist down of this man was entirely vacant, as if his body disappeared neatly into the floor. Her eyes dropped to the circles surrounding his body, each unique in colour and form. She traced over them, growing more aware of the story the further she ventured. Nine rings. The last ring had four evenly placed lines that connected to the base of the body, but only the fourth section was filled in.

Nine rings, four sections… She knew what this picture was. She knew what tale Tom was telling here!

“Is the identity confirmed?” Albus turned a Sirius with question in his eyes, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that Dumbledore already knew who this victim was.

“Yes,” Sirius replied with a grim hum. “It’s been confirmed: this is the rest of Rodolphus Lestrange, The chief executive of the asylum.”

The rest? So they had found his missing half elsewhere, most likely after she left. Harry had probably discovered Riddle’s disappearance at the crime scene. The fact someone else was already dead probably ignited a fear for her safety, it must have made him come searching for her, but why the _hell_ hadn’t he said something?

She felt violated, these people had walked into her home knowing _exactly_ what to look for. _That_ was why they never spoke to her.

“It seems like we will need to have a bit of a talk, Miss Granger.” Her forehead creased at the sudden formal wave of her name, it sounded wrong on Sirius’ tongue, he _never_ called her Miss… let alone Granger. 

“You can’t be serious.” Harry snapped. “You _know_ Hermione would never do this.”

“It is simply protocol, Harry.” Albus assured him with a firm hand on his shoulder. The flame inside her pulsed like a raging storm. Why the hell were they assuring _Harry_ that everything would be alright? She was the one who had a bloody killer determined to force his way into her life. 

With small smile Albus continued, “Miss Granger, please follow Sirius to the other room. He will need to speak to you in private.”

She released the stale breath from her lungs and removed herself from Harry’s protective grip. She couldn’t let them have any doubts about her innocence. She needed to face this with all the strength she could find. With a firm nod, she followed Sirius.

The walk to her patio was damned by silence. Her stomach twisted nervously as she stared at Sirius stiff shoulders. He had never acted cold towards her before. She didn’t know what to do.

“ _Hermione_ -” They stopped when his hand pressed against the doors. He didn’t move it further, he remained firmly planted were he was. The fire in his glare reflecting off the glass of the door and landed directly on her form. “You must understand the implications this has on you.”

“I understand.”

“ _Good_.” He released a frustrated sigh as he shoved the door open to usher her outside. She was quick to take a seat since she found herself rather unsure of her ability to remain standing. “Where were you between the hours of twelve and seven am last night?” Hermione lifted a brow at his question. It felt like such a ridiculous and obvious question to ask of her.  She was where she always ways. “Humor me,” Sirius huffed. “You came into the meeting looking rather exhausted, did you sleep?”

“I was at home working on the caseload, so no: I didn’t sleep.” She answered slowly.

“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”

“I-” Hermione broke off in disbelief. “No.”

“So, you have no one who can verify your location at the time of Riddle’s escape?” Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and peered down her with a type of look that made her feel unclean. The temptation to search her own skin for blood almost took root in her mind.

“No.” She returned quickly. “Sirius, I didn’t do this, you know that I wou-”

“You met with Riddle in secret and better yet, any proof of this meeting has been erased from the security footage.” The darkness in his voice was causing her muscles to go stiff beneath her skin. He _actually_ had doubt in her, the man she grew up with next to Harry. “It has also been noted that during the time you were ‘working on the case’ you failed to answer two of the riddles. Two that seemed strikingly easy. Why is that?”

“Are you insinuating that I didn’t work on them at all?” She was beginning to lose control of her breathing. A tightness grew in the pit of her chest and swelled until breathing hurt.

“Can you blame me?” He retorted with anger paining his voice red. “You turned to _him_ for answers before any of us. You meet in secret, _now_ there is no proof of it occurring at all!” Sirius bit out a scoff before he leaned his hands on the armrest either side of her chair. Hermione found herself sinking back into her seat as the man towered over her with a furious gaze. “He’s leaving you fucking _love_ letters, Hermione.”

The break in his formalities almost made her whimper. Sirius was angry, but he was angry just as much as he was concerned. She could see that, but it did not make his doubts any less painful.

“Sirius, _please_...” The words left her mouth with a quivered whisper, but she couldn't find the strength to continue.

“We have had a leak in the team since you joined us. It was like the killer knew our every move.” Hermione's heart caught in her throat at his words. The way he was staring at her… the way…

No. No, _no_! He couldn’t truly think that could he?!

“Then here you come, with all answers. It was _you_ that explained that the killer was leaving love notes for someone to see, and now that Riddle has escaped…” Sirius sighed like he couldn’t believe it himself. “Well here he is, promising to talk to you again and leaving you gifts of his own. Is he returning your letters, Miss Granger?”

Hermione almost lost the contents of her stomach.

The stress on her heart made it race out of control. She could see exactly what was happening, she was being forced into a box. Riddle had insured that she _looked_ guilty. He had practically built a whole case against her and all he had to do was leave his cell once. He knew that they didn’t appreciate her and that they didn’t respect her… and now he was using that to _isolate_ her.

“We can’t arrest you on speculation and it is extremely clear that this is Riddle’s handy work, but,” his voice cracked with exhaustion but the flare in his eyes had yet to leave. “You will be placed at another location and you will remain on a twenty-four hour watch for security purposes.”

Her chest seized like a hot knife had sliced it’s way through the ice of her skin. It ignited her soul with a pain she had never experienced before it mated with her growing fears.

She was alone in this. They were going to leave her out for the monsters to find.

As Harry’s godfather pushed himself away from her, she felt the dam of her fried emotions begin to crack. It was _crippling_. Slowly a lone tear broke free from the edges of her eyes and slipped down her cheek. 

“Tears can't save you from this, Miss Granger.” Sirius sighed, before gesturing towards the door. “We will be leaving for your new residence now, so if you would follow me.”

Hermione didn’t hear him past the ringing in her ears. She was too far gone, lost in the distance while she forcefully repeated Sirius words in her mind. _Leaving_ … now, after Riddle had just declared that he was going to return for her? 

It was obvious that they didn’t care, they were about to chain her down like a dog while they built a case against her. The worst of it being that it would not be hard; the killer left no clues, just riddles and hints. Riddles and hints that only she had seemed to understand.

“ _Hermione_.” The snap of Sirius’ tone had her head shoot his direction. He was becoming impatient, something he tended to do into when he needed a cigarette. He was clearly stressed out by the Doctor’s escape and she couldn’t find it in her to blame him. Tom Riddle had killed his friends- ney, his family and Harry was all he had left.

Sirius was never going to risk Harry’s safety over her.

With a slow nod Hermione forced herself to stand and allowed Sirius to lead her to her impending doom.

****

**~*~**

****

Tom felt his soul shutter delightfully as Sirius Black began demanding answers from Hermione, answers she could never provide.

It had been all too easy, really. She was always too busy running their investigation and attempting to prove her worth to be bothered with anything else. Due to her distinct collection of rare texts, it had been clairvoyant for Tom to see she preferred books over the company of people and it made her secluded. So few saw her outside of work. Few knew what she did with her time. It wasn’t like she bothered to tell them.

It was easy frame someone when the killer was an empty canvas.

The woman was brilliant and this poor excuse of a team were far too idiotic to understand that. Their views were easily changed when the slightest smudge appeared on her perfect image. They were so busy staring at the flaw that they forgot the brilliance of the masterpiece.

So, now here they were: Sirius making leaps and bounds until he decided that, not only could she be the leak but she might actually be the killer. Tom could barely keep the laughter from falling off his tongue.

He had not expected them to jump to _that_ particular conclusion so soon into the game- not that it mattered of course. She was isolated now. Alone and suspected. It made it far easier for him to prey upon her.

“Let the games begin.” Tom spoke silently to the wind. An amused hum dancing from his lips as he made a slow descent down the lawn. His heart thrummed with the excitement and danced with the violent call of his mind. “Ready or not, Hermione.”

It was simply too perfect.

“ _Here I come._ ”

****

**~*~**

 

****

Hermione felt defeated, in a matter of seconds her whole world had been turned around. She spent her time trying to make these people respect her… but now they thought the worst of her.

Hermione’s surface of the bed squeaked as she attempted to adjust to the unforgiving mattress, but nothing she did helped to make any of it better. Her insides swirled with a potent mix of horror and rage. It curled inside her heart like a black poison, eating away her hopes. She was unsure what to do. There was no easy way out of this situation.

The boom of Harry bounding through the bedroom door almost made her drop the rum she was currently nursing. Her wide eyes flicked upwards to watch him steal a quick, and unapproving, glance at the bottle in her hands. Her jaw clenched at the look in his eyes. He had _no_ right to judge her. Her eyes narrowed stubbornly as she pressed the mouth of the bottle back against her lips. 

“Enough of that.” Harry growled before he stole the bottle from her hands. It rattled when he slammed it down against her bedside-table.

She was hurt, but she was also _furious_ at them.

Hermione forced out a sigh to calm herself. She knew the tired gleam in her eyes spoke more than she could at this point. “Harry, I swear I didn’t have any hand in his escape.” She ground out her words with exasperation, it was almost painful to say them. She had been saying it all fucking day, what the hell was saying it one more time going to do?

The fact Harry didn’t answer left a twinge of disappointment inside her chest. How could he not say something? How could he sit there and be angry, when her life was going all directions but up.

The bed sunk next to her, causing Hermione to peer up and capture Harry’s green eyes. He kneeled next to her in a manner that made his body cast a shadow over her own. It was not pleasant to see Harry like this, he was her best friend. He should never have to judge her.

The urge to squirm fought to make itself known at amount of venom hidden within his emerald pigment. Sourly Hermione dropped her gaze and feigned interest in the way his hands moved closer to her body. The amount of aggression seeping from his skin made her regret that choice entirely

“I _swear_ ,” tumbled softly from her lips before she could stop herself. 

Still, no words left Harry’s lips.

It was not until his fingers knotted themselves in her hair, that she realised how close he was. With one quick yank, his mouth came down with a force that blistered her lips on contact. It certainly had not been what she expected in this encounter, but the surprise began to die as her skin began to light up under his affections.

This had not been the reaction was expecting, but in the state she was in… she was hardly complaining. She was willing to accept any form of comfort at this point.

Slowly his grip loosened and he pulled back to press his lips to the crown of her head. “I _know_ you didn’t, Mione’.” A sob tumbled from her lips at his reassuring confession. He believed her, he _actually_ believed her. Words never felt so comforting before.

Hermione was lost in the darkness of her rage, it almost felt surreal. Part of her couldn’t help but feel like Harry and her had somehow switched places in all of this. She was the one drowning in the raging sea now. It was clear that Harry was the only one that could see her from the shoreside. The distance made him ignorant to the fact she was not alone in this black storm. No, a monster swam next to her and it found pleasure in the dragging her head below water.

“Harry,” She buried her head into the center of his chest and attempted to calm her heart with his scent alone. It was just one of those things that calmed the booming thunder emitted by her heart, regardless of the situation. “I’m scared.”

The hand on the back of her head tightened as Harry pressed himself more firmly against her. He curled into her with everything he had, trying to provide the strength she was currently lacking.

She just wanted to make it all to go away.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, the plains of his skin slowly smoothed with her wandering hand. There was a spark of possibilities that fluttered across her mind. The idea was wrong, and she would be ashamed of herself if she followed through. Harry hadn’t known what he was doing the night he had come to her - Hermione would be conscious of this decision. It was possible though, she _could_ make it go away if she truly wanted to.

It was a chance she was willing to take.

Hermione felt herself move before she consciously decided, her body moving to straddle his thighs. She it seemed like she didn’t actually need to make a decision.

The look of surprise on Harry’s face made it clear that he had not expected her behaviour. How odd it seemed that the tables had turned, but the way her fingers began to dance the lines of his figure felt so right. Her hand dropped to sink beneath his shirt before smoothing the fabric upwards.

It was distracting enough to calm the eternal scream radiating through her mind. She _needed_ something to focus on before this whole situation turned her mad. 

Harry acted in earnest, his hand moved to encircle her waist, pulling her to him  tightly as she lowered her mouth to his. The sweet tingle of desire flared awake under her skin. This is _exactly_ what she needed. She needed all this stress building up in her soul to be released.

Harry had been all to willing to provide that before, why not now?

Her nails tickled the up the smoothness of chest, her mind pleading, begging to remove the fabric obstructing her further exploration. It stopped suddenly, her wrist halted mid stroke when Harry caught her hands.

“We can’t, Mione’.” His voice was hoarse, like someone had strangled his throat until it became raw. “ _I_ can’t, you’r-” He sputtered to a hasty stop and chose to pick his next words carefully. “You have become a suspect in this case, and if I-”

“If you sleep with me than it can void evidence or force you off the case.” Hermione cut him off with a sigh. “ _Yes_ , I know.” She shoved herself free from his grip with more force than intended and flopped back onto the bed. 

The amber hue of her eyes started to bore into the roof above her. Of _course_ they couldn't. Things never worked out easily for her. With a growl Hermione returned her attention to the rum on her bedside table and acknowledged that it looked extremely appealing.

“I have to go.” She could hear Harry’s hair ruffle in a way that only occurred when he was frustrated. ”I just wanted you to know that I believe you.”

A bitterness swelled on the pallet of her tongue as she mulled over his words. She honestly had nothing to say to him, so instead she ignored him until he quietly fled the room.

These idiots had given Riddle exactly what he wanted. While, yes, they had security personnel standing on watch, it hardly made her feel safe. The man brought a _body_ into her home- in the middle of the day, might she add- and not a single soul had witnessed it. If they believed they were ‘protecting’ her, then they were dead wrong.

She was nothing more than live bait… but maybe that was the point?

Hermione moved the bottle back to her lips before a swift disappointment took hold, the rum was gone. Just perfect. Hermione groaned as exhaustion began to swirl inside her given her intoxicated state She contemplated giving into it. It was an odd sensation, like the world was spinning out of control so her body settled on closing it out instead.

Sleep didn’t feel like such a bad idea anymore and drinking wasn’t going to make tomorrow any better than today.

A loud yawn left Hermione’s mouth. Yes, sleep was the best answer for now, otherwise she would be more hungover than necessary. Slowly Hermione worked to remove her outerwear, the act was sloppy but she couldn’t care much at the point. A smirk curled her lips as she settled down against the lumpy mattress. At least the alcohol could make her forget how terrible the bed was.

With a content sigh she spread out as comfortably as possible across the sheets. There was nothing left to bother her but the slight buzz of the drink. She wasn’t sure how long that lasted though, because the very fibers of her flesh began to hum with an unnatural tone.

The sensation was hot and it left her skin damp with perspiration. It made every inch of her soul _ache_ because something inside felt empty. The void inside her cried out at  the line dancing across her skin and pleaded for it’s mercy. She wanted it to ignite the life inside her soul, to make her world better.

She couldn’t quite figure out what the mysterious warmth was, though.

Her thoughts were heavy with sleep and her mind was dulled by the rum coursing through her veins. It, regretfully, made her slow to understand the sensation. Even the reality of the world around her was indistinguishable.

Greedily she arched into the movement,  adoring the way it flicked up her hips and swayed across her midsection. That flame curled deep into her center until her thighs clenched together. She hissed demandingly when the trailing warmth paused just along the underside of her breast.

Its hesitation engaged a part of her that demanded more. A dangerous purr fell from her lips while she reached down to capture that flame between her hands. It wasn’t allowed to stop - not until she said so. Yes, it was gluttonous of her, but she _needed_ this release. 

Hermione barely realized that it was another hand between her own. It’s skin was smooth, but the tips were calloused due to the year of work written across the papyrus of his skin. The contrast against her own skin was absolutely delicious. She chose to encourage its dance further up her skin, to caress her skin in places few had.  

A delighted moan left her throat as the hand complied to her will and moulded into the plump flesh of her breast. He fondled her with a roughness that made her yearn from head to toe. The hunger sparked inside her core as his large form settled against her own. The lust settled between the apex of her thighs, tingling with a silent demanded.   

An unnatural growl thrummed across her tongue. She wanted to be given the attention she deserved. She had battled this hunger for so long that it had settled deep within her bones. It was always there, thrumming though her nerves with constant desire. She couldn’t, and didn’t want to, fight it anymore.

Hell, she had even offered it up once today and had been quickly denied. It made her furious, but Harry had returned to offer her a taste of the sweetest temptation. It had been something she had been all but begging for, so could she truly remain angry?

Her fingers laced into the dance of his calloused hand, she followed eagerly as they pinched and prodded the sensitive mound of her bosom. She needed him to move quicker and she couldn’t waste another second by waiting for the introduction of his other hand.  She needed this hunger quenched and he was nowhere close enough.

Hermione reached for him, her free hand scrunching the shirt of his chest in a desperate need and hauled the man’s closer to her own.

A laugh greeted her actions as he continued to tease the column of her neck. At the vibration of his husky laugh she arched beneath him. It was simply mouth wateringly deep with hunger as radiant as her own. The more he tasted her, the more her skin fell into a rapturous hum. It demanded recognition and sought a peace only his mouth could provide. It was driving her _mad_. 

Her cries became uncontainable when his teeth sank into her collarbone.

Hermione forced her eyes open, trying to see past the blur of sleep, but her eyes refused to adjust. The only defining feature was the wavy mass of black hair that begged to have her fingers sink into it, and sweet heavens above, it was absolutely _glorious_ the moment they did.

The purr he hummed against her skin was more felt than it was heard, it drummed against her flesh as his lips slipped down the canvas of her chest and joined his probing fingers. The humidity of his breath against her warm skin aided the ripple of pleasure coursing through her veins.

A pebbled nipple was captured between his teeth and a hungry sob lodged itself in her throat.

She was mildly aware that there was a lace bralette barricading  their complete merging and it quickly became an annoyance. The fabric needed to be removed, and now. She wasn’t completely sure if she had voiced her concerns out loud, but he complied to her internal demand regardless. One, _painful_ , inch at a time he peeled it from her skin and he took pleasure in every second that she squirmed in wait.

****

Frustrated, Hermione arched up to brush her naked breast towards his mouth, begging for him to continue. She couldn't care enough to be concerned with the fact the lace had become terribly tangled around her biceps.  He abandoned it’s removal when her hand became anchored overhead, whether or not he had done that on purpose was lost on her the moment his lips completely enclosed her nipple.

Her lungs expanded outwards in a inaudible plea- _no_ , correction, she was physically begging for more. She just couldn’t handle waiting anymore. 

His fingers quickly found the dampness between her thighs at her invitation. He did not bother to ease her into the act, instead he chose to promptly bury them deep into her heat. The flush of completion almost sent her over the edge of oblivion.

Stars flashed behind her eyes and her voice broke into a ragged whine. “ _Fuck_!” 

Hermione’s hips bucked into the weave of his fingers, and soaked in the wonderous sensation he provided with them. She was going numb, the euphoria emitted by a simple come-hither motion had left her legs trembling. She was so close, _so_ , so close and it was heavenly. 

The roughness of the touch, the dominance… all of it, had been _exactly_ what she needed.

“Oh, _Hermione_.” Her brows clenched at the voice. Did Harry always sound this husky? “You sound much sweeter than I imagined.”

Fear shot through her heart and the haze of her pleasure disappeared in a single instant. She _knew_ that voice, it haunted her nightmares and tainted her existence. Its owner was the reason why she was _in_ this mess. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. 

Her deep honey eyes snapped down towards the man, absorbing the predatory presence displayed over her throat.

 _Riddle_. She just-

Tom moved up her body before baring his teeth against the edge of her jaw. He knew what was building up inside her throat and waited for it to be released. His stormy blue eyes burned with mirth as the scream urged a desire to be freed from her vocals. 

He swallowed the sound of it before it had the opportunity. ****  
** **

 

Hermione wanted to gag- or moan _,_ her mind had yet to process everything that was occurring just yet and his fingers were still fucking moving between her thighs. Only _one_ thing was extremely clear to Hermione Granger and that was the fact that she had just encouraged Tom _fucking_ Riddle to ravage her. ****  
** **

 

What the hell had she done.


	12. Darkness we Recognise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the, always, amazing WeestarMeggie who goes out of her way to help this hopeless writer get better.  
> I have all the love to send to that amazing woman. :D <3
> 
> For anyone who missed my tumblr post:  
> I am so sorry for the late update! I have just started University so I am a bit on the slow side.  
> I am Majoring in Psychology, abnormal personalities is what i will be working towards specializing in, and Minoring in English, creativewriting.  
> So downside, my updates will be on the slow side.  
> plus side, I get to write in class!
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and support,  
> I hope you like the new chapter! <3

###  Chapter 11

 

_ “We don't fall in love with people because they're good... We fall in love with people whose darkness we recognise. You can fall in love with a person for all of the right reasons, but that kind of love can still fall apart. But when you fall in love with a person because your monsters have found a home in them-- that's the kind of love that owns your skin and bones.” _

_ “Love, I am convinced, is found in the darkness. ” _

― [ **C. JoyBell C.**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4114218.C_JoyBell_C_)

 

~*~

  
  


The abyss was once a theoretical concept to her young mind. The darkness was spied upon through layers of protective glass and defining words. She was unprepared for the day that glass shattered. She painfully attempted to take on the darkness alone, it was an act she committed to save a single man of its tar ridden world.

Hermione failed, many a time, to find the lost boy beyond that shadow. Her years of studying seemed pointless when the real world was far more frightening than a textbook page explaining the human psyche.

The human mind worked like the tumblers of a puzzle. The combination was never the same:  _ everyone _ was different. If you weren’t listening to the tumblers correctly… well… a broken mind was easy to snap.

It had not been till the day she stopped trying to define it as ‘ _ what it should _ ’ be, that she was able to see the truth. She would never understand darkness if she remained standing in the light. A lighthouse made no impact on a sunny day and yet it made all the difference when standing alone against a charcoal sky.

Hermione learned to become unafraid of standing alone in the darkness, a single light in her hand to lead back those who might need her. But…  _ this _ was different. Her light was gone and she now walked the darkness blindly, knowing, all too well, that a monster was following her trail.

It did not take him long to find her. His clever mind worked tirelessly to capture the prey he had so patiently hunted. He had become too invested in her person to not be involved. She had known the risks when she had made that deal with him… but even now she did not regret it.

Perhaps it was the way his lips swayed across her own as he drank in her cry of fear, or maybe it was the longing circle his thumb pressed against her clit, but she knew that he had no intention of killing her. At least for the time being. Tom Riddle had every intention of enjoying the meal that was so willingly sacrificed to him.

Doctor Tom Marvolo Riddle was not only a physically fit man but he also out weighed her immensely, so her options were limited. As much as she despised admitting it, he had also  _ outsmarted  _ her. Now here she was: arms tied- due to her own idiotic suggestion, might she add- and her body was quivering with something more than fear.

Her heart roared across the cage of her chest, a battle cry of wrath pent up behind warm skin. She could feel it curl the edges of her lips sourly as she endured the bruising force of his kiss. 

He was touching her. He was making her  _ feel  _ things; things she certainly did not wish to be made to feel by the likes of him.

Riddle tasted like the cool sting of peppermint, but the flavor was heightened by warm flakes of nicotine. A smooth smoke that danced across his tongue and settled within her taste buds. Hermione allowed herself to explore it- explore  _ him _ , to be more exact- in ways he was already presenting. 

Hermione almost managed to convince herself it was entirely for self preservation purposes. Because, really, It was absolutely  _ preposterous  _ thinking that she would actually like him tou-

A gasp lodged itself in Hermione’s throat when another finger slipped between her folds. That slow, teasing kiss turned heated in an instant. The sensation stoked a fire deep inside her veins and pleaded for her acceptance. It  _ had  _ to be ignored but, feigning ignorance was increasingly hard when she practically melted within his hold.

Riddle swayed into her quivering form like a starved but prideful predator moving in for the kill. Sleek and calm in depths of skill but the demand was  _ eager _ .

Her mind screamed. All of this was  _ wrong _ . She needed to be quick about her actions if she wanted to- a mewl forced itself passed her lips while her body rolled into his own without a conscience decision.  _ No-  _ what in the seven hells was wrong with her? She had to, at least,  _ attempt  _ to get away- or fight!

Then her raging anxiety paused. She didn’t have to use brute force to escape, there were  _ other  _ ways to win a battle…

Hermione pushed back against his kiss with a force of her own. A hunger of malice that she could displace with potential persuasion. It began as a sensual movement. Her tongue coaxed its way across the seam of his lips, a single canine grazing the plump flesh before she sucked it between her teeth. Sweet, dark desire ached at the back of her mind and desire bubbled in her core. 

Such terrible things seeped sweet poison through her veins but she refused to let him win because these desires could only end in  _ blood _ .

Hermione steeled her nerves with two calming breaths and thick amber orbs opened to find his ice blues upon her. Watching… waiting. He  _ knew _ . Her eyes narrowed and she found herself despising him more.

Of  _ course  _ the fucker knew, but that wasn’t going to keep her from following through with it.

She watched with a smug satisfaction as she bit down with all the force available to her. Her skin flushed  in a ravenous nature as blood flooded her mouth. There was something immensely pleasurable about watching his handsome features twist, while only in the slightest, in pain.

She didn’t know if it was still an after effect of the alcohol, or perhaps he had broken something inside her, but Hermione was rippling with a violent need… and she had no qualms about taking it out on Riddle. She didn’t waste time by thinking about the matter further. She allowed it to well up inside her like a raging storm.

Slowly she let go.  

 

 

~*~

 

 

The energy around them was thrumming with excitement, and it nearly brought a purr to Tom’s lips. He watched her fume in awed silence as the determination began to settle within her being. Hermione was a lovely specimen. A defiant soul built into a kind heart and a brilliant mind. It was beautiful. She was a creature so rare that she made pages of ancient texts seem worthless in his eyes.

Tom wanted to peel back her hardened cover to peer into the inks that twisted her white world dark. Her life was a scale of grey that he desired to lay his eyes upon, for it was a unique sight he wished to revel in . He knew that- while yes, she was born of innocence, inside she was a wildfire ready to eat away the papers that defined her.

He was going to enjoy every minute of it. 

He could already see it in the flickering amber of her eyes as his blood swept past his skin and into her waiting mouth. The edges of his lips quirked upward, despite the violent hold she had on his flesh, because there was still one thing her clean mind had yet to recognize. 

There is  _ pleasure  _ to be found in pain.

A delightful growl vibrated from her vocals as he pulled back enough to force the release the abused flesh. “My, my, what is this,” A cruel chuckle fell from his tongue like a song. "Is the real Hermione Granger coming out to play?" His words affected her, he knew by the way her chest quivered with breath and denial sparked through her eyes.

It was delicious to witness.

Tom ran his tongue across the wounded flesh and found that two of her lovely teeth had pierced through either side. His smile grew. Yes, Hermione Granger was a dangerous creature and he adored it.

His lips crashed back into her own with a renowned forced, and Hermione mewed in such a luscious manner on impact. Tom could feel his blood trail delightfully down her chin, painting her skin with his essence until it sunk into the white sheets below.

The muscles within her thigh twitched beneath his arm. He wanted to laugh, but it would have given away the knowledge he had on her actions… and where was the fun in  _ that _ ?

Her knee jerked up, seeking - racing in desperation to make contact with his ribs. As much as he hated departing her warmth, Tom removed his hands from between her thighs in order to catch the action before it could be committed. There was no hesitation in the amount of violence he chose to use upon her. No, he slammed her thigh down at in irregular angle until she cried in protest.

Her body jerked, rejecting the use of force placed upon her person. Tom pulled back because he wanted to watch her struggle. He wanted to see the way pain would paint her lovely feature in a new light and-

A jarring force turned his vision white as Hermione’s forehead collided into his nose. A hiss fell from his tongue as Tom found himself reeling back. His rage was beginning to rise like a smoke in his lungs. This was the  _ second  _ time she had spilled his blood. His patience was going to wear thin at this rate.

She had moved during his distraction, enough to untangle herself from the fabric twisted around her limbs. Tom’s eyes opened up enough to witness the way her back pressed against the headboard, hands fisted above her heart as she glared at him from her position.

“ _ Hermione _ ,” The darkness in his tone remained soaked with his amusement. It was nothing more then candied promises for a dangerous game. “Choose your next actions wisely.”

She wouldn’t, of course, but that is what made it so  _ fun _ .

“Did I break your nose,  _ Doctor _ ?” She was attempting to bait his anger, it was rather brilliant, but it wasn’t quite enough.

He hummed in agreement as he pinched the bridge of his nose and snapped the pieces together with a satisfying crunch. “Do you like spilling my blood,  _ Hermione _ ?” Tom purred sweetly, his lips parting with a blood stained smile. Her face went pale as she stared down at his mouth. It was an unsightly mess. “I think you do.”

“Come now, share your thoughts with me, Hermione.” A cruel laugh danced through Tom’s rib cage as her body shook at the very sight. He must have looked like a bloodthirsty monster in those pretty eyes of hers. “I am dying to know how I taste on your tongue.”

She sucked in a damning breath-  _ Fight or flight. _ Ah yes, the instincts that sent surges of fear and adrenaline into her veins. She would have done much better with the latter, but Hermione excelled at doing things the hard way.

Her hand clasped around the bottle on the edge of her bedside table and swung.

_ Pity _ .

 

 

~*~

 

 

Harry sighed as he pulled up to the safehouse. He had barely slept through the night. Tom managed to weave himself into his dreams like the snake that lay in wait within the tree of knowledge. Harry’s shoulders sagged as he dropped his head onto the steering wheel in front of him.

He could hardly believe the events of  the last seventy-two hours.

Riddle had escaped, leaving behind a picturesque riddle in which none of them had figured out. Even worse, the one person who could figure it out had been arrested. Harry could not even consult her without throwing the case entirely.

His jaw tightened and, with one great thud, his fist came crashing down upon his dash. They had arrested her. Hell, they actually believed it was possible simply because the coincidences were ‘too uncanny’. The case was checked off like a pretty little list and was ready to proceed. How could they not see that it was too coincidental- that it was  _ too  _ easy?

With another sigh Harry allowed his head to fall back against his chair. He was going to fix this. He could make this better and make them see the truth. A smile forced itself across his face as he set his mind with determination.

He could do this.

Quickly, Harry snagged both coffee’s from his cup holder and moved to make strides towards the house only to find himself pausing. His eyes danced across the earthly planes that had been granted the name ‘sanctuary’. The wind was a silent whisper in his ears, and birds chirped from the distance, but there was no other sounds to be found.

Where were the guards?

Harry’s heart clenched with a type of fear he had never experienced before. It came like an onset of panic. His heart thudded within his chest and his throat tightened with a bitter pain. It  _ couldn’t _ be. The cups within his grasp tumbled from his hands and spilled across his shoes. His joints had gone rigid at the sight. 

No people. No lights within the home.  _ No…  _

No. Surely, he was overthinking it. He had to be!

Harry took off in a frantic run. His mind set with fear and doubt, but nothing could change those first few moments that confirmed his horror. It smelt like death and it nearly knocked Harry to his knees. Tears bit angrily at the edges of his eyes as he forced himself to walk forward.

He had to see it for himself, he wouldn’t believe it until he witnessed it with his own eyes.

The sound of his footsteps was haunting, screaming into the silence around him. He was begging- no, he was   _ praying _ , with all of his being for this outcome to be not what he believed it to be. Harry knew better than that, though. He had studied Riddle his entire life, hell he had walked the man’s footsteps and studied his technique with a demanding need. 

He never should have  left her. He shouldn’t have listened to Sirius and left her alone in this fucking place. But, they had promised that she would be safe.

They  _ promised. _

Harry’s legs finally gave way when he passed the threshold of her bedroom. The room blurred and swayed with despair. Those tears screamed the words that his voice could not.

What had he done?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaaaaaaaaahhh, please don't kill me.  
> I love you all I swear XD <3


	13. The Mistakes we Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH, I am so glad to have this chapter posted, as I have been dying to show you all what is happening in the world of Defy and Define!  
> Plus side? It is a nice and ling chapter! Hurray!  
> Down side?... I won't be surprised if you guys spend half of this chapter screaming 'WTF' at me.
> 
> Anyway  
> Enjoy everyone!

### Chapter 12

****

_“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”_ _  
_ **\- Plato**

****

~*~

****

The sight encasing their conference room was not one Albus Dumbledore had ever hoped to see. The situation, itself, was _entirely_ unfavourable. His tired blue eyes danced across the countless pictures that painted the table they had gathered around and they glared back at him with malice. His throat had gone dry, but not even that could keep the sigh of defeat from falling from his lips.

This was their first meeting pertaining her death, but it had been a week since Harry had gone to the property and found carnage in its wake. The bodies had long been processed; the only evidence of the ghastly sight to remain was the pictures currently sprawled across their table.

It was not supposed to have happened this way; the girl should have been secure in the location they had provided but Tom had had other plans. He had made that fact obviously clear. The dozens of personnel had been killed quickly. Tom had picked them off one by one, making it easier for his presence to remain unnoticed.

He later propped them up around the main bedroom like patrons of a play. Their empty sockets becoming the only witnesses to a crime most foul.  Harry, himself, became the first witness to see his finished product: Three souls carefully manipulated into a clear rendition of ‘ _Death and the Maiden_.’ by Henri Levy.

The autopsy made it clear that Miss Granger had fought Tom with all the ability one could, her defensive wounds were extensive and… without her dentals- heartbrokenly provided by her parents- they would not have been able to identify her broken body at all.

The room around him was utterly silent despite everyone who currently lingered. Albus scrubbed a tense hand across his mouth, savouring the sensation of course hair creating friction beneath his menstruations. He could not fault them on the stifling grief that rendered them useless, he too found it hard to concentrate when the image of Miss Granger’s naked form- warm skin stained by sickening bruises and split with the force brought down upon her- burned itself into his mind’s eye.

Unlike her death, Tom had been delicate with the way he depicted her. Her fallen body was caught in the arms of a skeletal man suspended from the ceiling, while another, seemingly fell to his knees, reached for her in a desperate plea. It nearly looked like the man could have prevented her demise in some way, but he had failed the fallen maiden.

Tom had been _mocking_ them.

“Harry.” Albus hastily pulled himself from his thoughts as Sirius spoke up with a voice broken and jarring to the ears. “I am so-”

“Shut _up_.” Harry’s answer shot worry through Albus’s heart. The boy’s rage was well known, he blamed for them for Miss Grangers death. Albus could understand his reasoning for such anger, but it would become a hindrance to their efforts in the future if he did not get a handle on his emotions.

“We can’t linger on this matter further, Harry,” Albus sighed while his eyes drooped with a gentle form of pity. “We will all grieve Miss Granger’s loss but-”

“Grieve?” Harry interjected bitterly. “Not a single one of you grieve her, what you feel is fucking guilt for your own actions. What you feel has _nothing_ to do with her, so don’t you _dare_ come to me with that bullshit.”

“Harry,” It was a valiant effort on Sirius’ behalf, but one that would ultimately fail. “You _know_ that isn’t true.”

Two things happened in those few precious seconds of quiet Sirius’ statement caused: First came Harry’s voice, booming like a thunder in the silence of the room.“Then how could you do that to her?”  Secondly was the screech of his chair which echoed like a haunted cry as it clattered across the floor. Albus watched as the other occupants flinched under the rage Harry was currently displaying. “How could _you_ arrest her for something she didn’t commit. I don’t give a shit what your ‘evidence’ said, Hermione was not a fucking killer and we _all_ knew it!”

“Harry, the evidence against her w-”

“Don’t you dare give me that bullshit speech, Remus.” Harry snapped, cutting his former professor off before he could truly enter the conversation. “That evidence was purely hypothetical and Riddle fucking played you all on it. He wanted you to isolate her and _what_ did you do?” 

Albus absorbed the flicker of darkness in the green of Harry’s eyes before he tore them away. The darkness that Tom had left inside Harry was worrying and Albus couldn’t help feeling that Tom’s endgame involved the boy somehow.

“You gave him _exactly_ what he wanted.”

“I believe that will be enough for now, Harry.” Albus’s voice dominated the room, pulling all eyes his direction as he attempted to snuff out the boy’s rage. The situation was getting out of hand and he could not risk the consequences of a quarrel breaking out amongst their team. The elder man dropped a respectful nod towards Harry, who watched him with narrowed eyes, before continuing. “Take the rest of the day off, I believe you need to express your grief further. We can resume this on a later date.”

“ _Gladly_.”

Albus leaned back in his chair, observing silently as Harry exited the room. This development was extremely problematic, what Albus believed to be a pawn had suddenly been revealed as a queen. Her death had been devastating towards his other key players.

Harry was correct, their use of Miss Granger had given Tom the advantage and now they were all paying for it.

****

~*~

****

Sirius’s teeth clenched as his godson stalked out of the conference room. One clenched fist pressed into the table’s cool surface as he leaned forward and set his grey eyes upon the sight before him.

_Fuck_.

With a sigh Sirius ran a hand through his shaggy locks. His heart was heavy with the knowledge that their mistakes had caused his godson such pain. Hermione had been Harry’s rock since they were children and the changes Harry had been going through since taking this investigation had been unnerving, but as always, Hermione had held him together. Sirius sucked in a slow breath while the truth of the matter settled into his core like cement, _nothing_ was holding Harry together now. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“No…” Albus agreed softly, his aged blue eyes captured by the sight of the girl who would forever haunt their dreams. “I am afraid Tom might have saw through us.”

“How do we proceed from here?” Remus interjected hesitantly.

Sirius turned his stormy gaze towards his friend, worried by the silent pain he found there. They really had fucked up. This move was supposed to draw out both killers… not- The sight of her beaten body was cauterized into his mind’s eye. Her cruel honey eyes wouldn’t leave him as she watched his actions with betrayal and tears.

Broken, bloody, ra- _fuck_ , it was so wrong.

Sirius eyes clenched shut and his fist reared back to slam, forcefully, back into the table’s surface. Hermione was supposed to be safe, they had had teams swarming the building. Their plan had seemed foolproof but they had been so wrong.

Sirius almost flinched when Remus laid his hand over his own, a calm soul to ease away the monsters… but could either of them truly be calm after knowing the horrors that had been committed to Hermione? Did they truly deserve peace after that?

“We should have never used her as bait, Albus.” Sirius’ voice rose softly from the pain radiating through his being. Harry was not wrong, they knew Hermione was not their killer, but they had needed their leak to think they did. Hermione had been a strong and brilliant woman, they had thought if anyone could get through the scrutiny it was her.

Riddle’s eyes on her was just an added bonus. They should have known, they knew _him_. They knew how obsessed with a kill he could become. They had let years of ignorant bliss to fool them into making this mistake and now they were paying for it.

“For now, we must leave Tom be and, instead, start over with this case: run through the profiles with our current knowledge and find something new.” Sirius watched with rising breath as Albus pushed himself into a slow stand and eased his way towards the murder board. “We are missing something beyond all of this.”

“Let. Riddle. _Go_?” He scoffed bitterly, blue eyes narrowing in disdain as he found them being drawn back in by the pictures spread across their table. “You expect us to actually drop him after-” Pain sunk it’s venomous teeth into the back of his throat, forcing the muscles to tighten and his jaw to clench. 

He could barely finish the thought.

God, what would James and Lily think of him? They left their son in the care of a man who had condemned Harry’s best friend to death at the hands of their murderer.

“We chose her for a reason, Sirius.” He forced his eyes away from the offending pictures and looked up at the man who had spoken without turning to look at them in return. Dumbledore was scanning their board with a franticness to his gaze, searching for the one thing they missed. “She fit our killers agenda and catching them, as well as Tom, it was not an opportunity we could pass by.”

“Mid to late Twenties, female, bruinette.” Remus started listing half-heartedly. “Low to mid class lifestyles but they work in high positions.”

“Their preferences are changing,” Sirius interrupted with an irritated snarl. “Their last kill was a blond born into high society, she never had to work a day in her life.”

“The image of their kill changed too.” Remus leaned back in his chain next to him, eyes closing tiredly before his friend reached up to rub the exhaustion from them. “The chances of them keeping to that new pattern is extremely low, as Hermione had stated: that kill was special somehow, our killer went out of their way to make it beautiful.”

Sirius’ need to retort died suddenly on his tongue. _Hermione_. She was right, she was always right and she was always working. The image of her seated in the middle of her web of notes flashed through his mind and left him reeling.

Her notes- _holy fuck_ … they needed Hermione’s notes!

Sirius pushed himself from the table, his heart thundering with adrenaline as he made haste towards the door. Hermione was the most organized person he had known, she wrote down every thought- every _idea_ , no matter how ridiculous it might have seemed. She would have tucked it away with her notes and reviewed it later when she became stuck on something.

“Sirius, where are you going?!” He could hear Remus race to fall instep beside him, but he didn’t slow his pace to accommodate his friend’s need for answers.

“Going to search through Hermione’s notes, she knew something we didn’t and I _refuse_ to ignore her this time.” Sirius barely caught the sad smile his friend tossed his way, but he didn’t have time to pay it mind.

If anyone had the answers they needed it was Hermione. He should have listened to her more when she was alive, they should never have taken advantage of her, but they had

No, Sirius wouldn’t allow her death to be in vain. It was time to fix the mistake they had committed.

****

~*~

****

Silence was welcoming to his mind as of late. Sweet silence that laced his veins with a coldness his mind couldn’t fathom. It was beautiful, really, in comparison to the endless grief that threatened to swallow him whole. Perhaps it wasn’t the emptiness that made him feel so cold, perhaps it was laying _here_ … in this house he had thought to be so warm.

The house that she’d left to him.

Harry bit back a broken scoff at the idea. She actually had given her home to him, left it in her will for him to do whatever he pleased with, but... His eyes scanned his surroundings from his position on the living room floor. In the week since she had die-

Harry’s eyes clenched and his heart burned with a bitterness beyond his control- he still couldn’t find it in himself to change anything. It felt like he was giving up on her by removing her things, but all of these _things_ seemed… dull without her radiance to give them the colour they once contained.

He never realised how achromatic his world was when she wasn't present… but he was seeing it now more than ever.

Harry’s eyes drifted shut, breathing in a scent that seemed to be fading from the room; The smell of the sun against fresh rainfall, of honey and warmth. The smell of _her_. Everytime he stepped foot inside it seemed to get further and further away. He despised it. 

He didn’t want to lose the only thing he had left of her.

Harry’s face sunk into his hands as loss began to consume him like a ravaged beast. He had almost forgotten the feel of it’s claws around his heart… despite the nightmares, Hermione had kept that monster at bay. Now, Desolation hung it’s pelt over Harry’s shoulders and welcomed it’s dark kin with open arms. Harry’s fingers twisted into his messy black waves and pulled until the strands cried for release. He had never felt so… _broken_ before.

He had dreamt of her the night before, but the authenticity of it left him screaming. It had made him unable to handle a damn thing the other’s had to say about her death… unable to handle _Sirius_. Hermione would be so disappointed in him. She would be saddened by his anger towards his Godfather… but he couldn’t stop the need to blame the man from taking hold of his heart.

She had been so peaceful in his dream… giving.

 

_“Remember, the first day we met?”_

 

Her voice filled his mind with a soft melody. She spoke to him with kindness as she ran her fingers through his hair. The feel of his lips pressed against her collar. Harry bit back a bitter laugh remembering the oversized dress shirt covering her skin and the state of her unruly curls.

****

_“You didn’t like me very much. I was nothing but the know-it-all who had nothing better to do with her time than overachieve. Then one fateful day you heard me crying in the girls bathroom while Greengrass spat profanities at me and you, quiet Harry James Potter, walked right into the girls bathroom and-”_

_“Told her off for being an utter troll.”_

****

Harry could feel the tears threatening to steal his breath at the sound of her laughter towards his remark.

  
_“She was so mad that she went straight to the teachers.”_

_“You took the blame for me.”_ The sound of his own tired laughter was jarring to him.

_“I will_ **_always_ ** _be the one to catch you when you fall Harry.”_

****

A sob fell from his lips as that cloak of desolation slipped from his shoulders, her forgotten voice radiated off the walls of his mind and left him broken.

****

_“...Even if that means I must fall_ **_first_ ** _.”_

****

“Harry?” Harry’s heart stammered at the sudden intrusion of Sirius’s voice. His Godfather was the last person he had expected to come to this place. “Harry, my boy…” the sound of his footsteps came closer and paused at the edge of his peripheral vision. “I am so _sorry_.”

Harry’s insides swelled painfully as Sirius collapsed on his knees next to him, the crack of his knees on the hardwood was almost deafening, but he could still hear the ache in Sirius voice. The pain and regret thrummed around the elder male, swarming around Harry’s own volatile emotions in a way Harry could barely handle. Than all he could feel was pity towards Sirius.

He _hated_ it. 

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to hate him but there was so much hurt in the way his Godfather spoke- So much regret and loss that Harry simply… _couldn’t_.

“There is nothing I can do to right this wrong, Harry-” Harry’s mind almost went numb at the words leaving Sirius’ mouth. He had heard that before… he had heard those exact words from Hermione when he first chose to take on this job.

_“...sometimes you can be really thick. This is your health you are ignoring. These murders can be resolved Harry,_ **_they_ ** _can right this wrong but they will never be able to right you if_ **_you_ ** _become wronged.”_

He choked back a bitter laugh, It was ironic that she had become the one thing they could never fix for him.

“-but we can do right by _her_.”

His green eyes lifted from their place, leaving the darkness of his hands to capture the raw determination painted across Sirius’s face. There was a gleam of loss to be found in Sirius’s blue gaze, one reminiscent to Harry’s own, but there was also a smile firmly planted across the man’s face.  

“She was brilliant, Harry,” Sirius continued, his hand clasping onto Harry’s shoulder in a soft reassurance. “If there was anyone to have figured this killer out it was her, and I think it’s about time we give her the credit for it.

His brows narrowed as listened to Sirius continue. “The dead can’t talk, Sirius.”

“No,” Remus agreed before his hand clasped Sirius’s shoulder, connecting the three of them with a gentle train of comfort. “But, her notes can speak for her.”

The breath fell from Harry’s lungs with a stunned sort of relief. He had not thought to look through her notes, to search the thought of her world that no longer contained a voice. Harry fell into a slow nod as a smile of sorrow pulled at the edges of his lips. He sniffed back laughter before leaning forward into Sirius’ embrace.

_I will_ **_always_ ** _be here to pick your ass up when you fall._

Even in death, it seemed.

****

~*~

****

_Knight to F3._

Tom’s fingers made smooth lines across the fine fibers of his pants as he leaned back against the bed he rested within. He was fighting the desire to be disappointed as he scanned the ongoing images on the screen monitor: Harry Potter being held together by his Godfather and friend. Tom leaned further back, allowing the plush pillows to encase his lounging figure as he watched the events unfold.

The boy was breaking, there was no doubt about that. Without his darling Hermione, the boy was nothing but crumbling pieces against the winds of a hurricane. His darkness would consume him eventually, it just seemed Tom was going to have to wait longer than anticipated.

A content sigh fell from his lips as he began to tune into the quiet beep of the heart monitor and the delicate intake of breath next to him. Tom’s face lit up with a devilish smile as he turned his body towards the sleeping soul, so delicate in the state she currently remained.

Her bruised skin was nearly healed now. Her wounds, while almost fatal, continued to be carefully tended to.

She had fought him, just like he thought she would but she had been a more formidable opponent than he first believed. Hermione held nothing back in that moment of survival, and her instinct to fight had been absolutely volatile.

_Capturing the bottle in his grasp had not been a struggle, her dulled reflexes could be easily overpowered and out maneuvered, but Hermione used those few moments of distraction to lunge at him. They tumbled from the bed’s surface. She looked like a rabid lioness with the mass of curls falling around her face, an image captured by ragged snarls and furry._

_Tom’s monster smiled back at her then, intoxicated by the way her thighs tightened around his waist in the same manner her hands had encased his throat._

Murderous Hunger: That is what Tom Riddle witnessed within those honey eyes that night. It was delightful to see, but, in the end, Tom had been immensely irritated by the amount of damage he knew he would have to inflict upon her to gain the upper hand.

_Locked elbows collapsed with the ease of his hand, but the way his elbow collided with the side of her skull contained the force of a man determined._

Harming her was a necessary evil , really. She was much too stubborn to come easily. As long as she was conscious, Tom knew that she would never stop fighting him.

 

_Tom watched with growing amusement as she collapsed to the floor but, somehow, continued to roll out of his immediate area. Hermione swayed as she scrambled to stand, eyes fluttering with the struggle to remain focused. Every second she defied him, Tom found his admiration growing._

 

Such a breathtaking strength she possessed.

 

_He watched in cruel silence as she stumbled out of the room, her lethargic arms barely catching her before she fell into the doors frame. Tom’s laughter accompanied her retreat from the room while the rest of him followed with restrained ease._

_“Rage, fury,intense indignation. In cataracts of fire, blood and gall.” His voice echoes out like song, and he watched triumphantly as she faltered at the sound. How terrifying it must be, to hear a quote from a book you hold dear being called out from the hands of death himself. “In whirlwinds of sulfurous smoke and enormous forms of energy. In living creations appear’d-”_

_Tom paused when Hermione ripped a knife from the kitchen block and turned on him. A blue gaze lowered to the weapon but returned to her honey orbs with a blaze of excitement. “In flames of eternal_ **_Fury_ ** _.” He finished with a lewd purr._

****

Tom sighed, as the memory eased through his mind’s eyes. It creased lines into his brow and made his insides sour; he rarely made mistakes and yet this little _witch_ continuously showed that she was capable of making him do such things.

****

_Hermione didn't wait for him to advance, forcing Tom to dodge the oncoming ark of the blade within her grasp. Hunger danced across his senses as he watched her throw herself into each strike, despite his ease to avoid such an attack. Then she stumbled, knife slipping from her hands as her footing became lost beneath her._

_That would be the blow he dealt to her head beginning to take further effect._

_Pinning her to the floor had been far to easy from there, his knees pressed into her chest as his hands sealed over her mouth and pinched her nose. Panic washed over her caramel gaze, her hands clawing at his wrists in a pitiful attempt to capture a single breath. It was entracing, for there was not a second that she looked away._

_A hush fell from his lips with a menacing grin. “Don’t worry, Hermione,” He dipped to press his lips against her brow. “I am not finished with you yet.”_

****

She had _purposefully_ distracted him, he knew that now. She had pulled him in with her defiant eyes and held him there until she got what she wanted.

****

_Tom reacted on instinct, his arm lifting to shield the oncoming attack. The blade sticking through his forearm had diverted his attention from the fact a distinct crack emanated from the cage beneath his weight. Rage had inflated itself throughout his blood stream as he glared at the knife piercing either side of his arm._

 

Tom glanced down at the arm he was absentmindedly palming. She could have killed him, in fact, she had every intention of killing him than. He should have been angry at her ability to almost commit said attempt, but Tom only found himself exhilarated by it. He wanted, even more, to taste that hunger on her lips once again.

****

_Tom had turned on her with every intent on acting out on his rage, but found it fleeing his system at the wide eye terror taking hold of her soul. Tom’s head dipped to the side as her mouth opened and closed in desperate gasps. Than his brows narrowed because suddenly blood was sputtering past her lips._

****

Hermione was lucky he filled his estate with medical supplies and instruments, otherwise she would not have survived the night. He almost lost her to _punctured lungs_ , of all things.

There was a healing scar on the side of her ribs were he had forced a tube through to drain the blood from her. It gave him enough leeway to get her into the safety of his home before she drowned in her own blood. The darkness curled within his chest delightfully, pulling laughter from the hollow of his chest as he reach out to trace the elongated scar that drifted down the center of her chest. He had cracked open her sternum and grinned at how easily it had given him access to her delicate insides.

There were no complications with the surgery, but Tom took more time than necessary patching up the abundance of holes inflicted on the life providing organs. A deep rumble vibrated through his soul as remembered the way he caressed her beating heart. The act alone had been immensely pleasurable to him as her life was literally within the palm of his hands.

The utter control it emitted made Tom ravenous with a haze of lust, but to his misfortune, he had to keep her in a drug-induced coma while she healed. He couldn’t risk her ruining all his hard work by fighting him… _again_. She could be woken up soon though, and than they could really continue this little game of theirs. No more hindrances to slow her progress.

Just them and _murder_.

His grin twisted maliciously as he weaved a curl around his leather bound finger. He already knew the answers, he had known who the killer was since the beginning, but there was no fun in giving away the answers… doing the work for them.

No.

No, Hermione could figure it out, she just needed the odd hint. She needed something only _Tom_ could provide, and he was going to make sure she knew that.

Tom hummed with amusement as he returned his darkening blues to the scene adjacent to the bed. The boy who lived and Sirius Black were beginning to search for answers, hoping that Hermione might have left them _something_ to work off of. There was things to discover there, of course, Tom had insured there would be… but the boy had to be clever enough to figure it out himself.

_Check._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, how many of you were angry at me for a bit there? XD  
> There is a reason for all of this madness, I promise :P
> 
> Untill next time!


	14. Catching Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Weestarmeggie and Kyoki for helping me with this chapter.  
> Your feed back and thoughts... and edits of course haha, help me in more ways then you know.  
> love you lovely ladies. <3
> 
> You guys ready for a Tomione only chapter??  
> Woo, Okay-- okay....  
> Lets do thiiiiis!

###  Chapter 13

 

_ “Evil wasn’t just some spiritual concept or the deeds of a bad man. It was real, physical, like an infectious disease. And you could catch evil if something evil got inside if you....And once inside, it could take you over” _

 

**_Rebecca Roanhorse ‘Trail of Lightning’_ **

  
  


**_~*~_ **

  
  
  


Nausea swept through her like a storm, stretching across her bones and throat in a bitter wave. She rolled quickly, head hanging over the bed before she could choke on the fluid attempting to leave her stomach. Her eyes watered in protest as the sensation wafted through her nostrils. Burning. Bitter...

 

Gone?

 

A string of calm stretched itself across her skin before it settled inside her body. It was strangely similar to being engulfed by warm water—welcomed with complete relaxation through her system. It was… odd because the anxiety was still there, screaming for recognition but somehow it was not able to touch her.

 

It felt  _ wrong _ .

 

“Deep breath, Hermione. The nausea will pass soon enough.” she shifted, gaze drawn to a voice that should have struck fear into her heart. She looked at him and gathered the lax posture he emanated. Something about the way this dangerous man, gently returning the syringe on the bedside table, looked far too routine for it to be normal. He returned his attention to the I.V stand by her bedside without fully acknowledging her beyond the basic medical need… his task was too important.

 

Her brows drew together with concern, she didn’t like the fact he was so at ease while he applied his medical knowledge on her person. 

 

Something felt entirely off about it. Her forehead creased further, racking her brain for the information that seemed to continue invading her. Than she caught it, like a words caught on the tip of her tongue… her concern did nothing more than add pressure against her temple, as if it had been numbed somehow. 

 

Hermione watched suspiciously as Tom’s fingers danced across the buttons on the I.V. monitor; whatever cocktail she was currently hooked up to was being upped.

 

“What--”

 

“You are healing,” Hermione almost snarled in irritation at Riddle’s blunt assumption of her question, not that he was wrong, but because it was entirely ignorant to interrupt someone midstentece. 

 

The confusion ran through her mind, the more she realized that her emotions were dulle the more she wondered what Riddle has done to accomplish that.

 

“You will get used to the feeling. The first few doses are always the worst but we certainly couldn’t have you  _ foolishly _ exerting yourself so soon after surgery.” Tom’s mischievous grin pulled at something deep within her gut— it distracted her from the matters at hand so it was entirely unwelcome. “I put energy into fixing you, Hermione, it would be such a waste to ruin my good efforts.”

 

Fixing her? How could he possibly  _ fix  _ her, she didn’t need fixing, she just needed to get away...

 

Hermione’s eyes widened as the memories assaulted her in a wave of discomfort, it crashed against her psyche as if it was a worn stone assaulted by ocean’s waves.

 

Tom had broken into the safe house. They fought… they almost-

 

Heat trickled down Hermione’s veins and pooled deep within her core with a threat to drown her from the inside out. She gasped; the feeling assaulted her nerves in comparison to everything that felt  _ colourless _ . A moan caught on her tongue, a sound that screamed pain and darkness. Desperately Hermione pressed her brow into the blankets and whimpered out a plea— she begged for the emptiness she felt not seconds ago.

 

“That will pass as well.” His laughter was close— too close, but by the seven hells he sounded divine. Hermione quivered, her eyes demanded to seek out enchanting noise but her mind taught not too. Regardless she found him as he reached across the bed to gently cup her cheek; something sinfully wrong. “I detest playing the game this way, Hermione, but I need your compliance on this matter.”

 

A heaviness made its way across the back of her skull until the weight wore her down with slow understanding. She shook and willed her mind to wipe away the grogginess that remained.

 

“Did--” No, that was the wrong question but words were increasingly hard to find. Hermione shook her head harder, but her attempts to find clarity only became muddier as she went. “ _ What _ have you given me?”

 

“Ativan,” He paused with a clever grin. “As well as a few other things.”

 

She began to blink dumbly at him, as if clearing her vision could change his answer. Ativan she could understand; it would increase dopamine levels in order to control anxious behavior, at least in small doses, otherwise it would induce sedation.

 

But, these ‘other things’ were reason enough for concern.

 

Frustration built in the back of her mind but she couldn’t find the connections to seize it. Whatever ridiculous concoction Riddle has used one her was taking full effect, and the bastard was using her weakened state to his advantage. It ensured she remained cooperative.  

 

What a sneaky, beguiling— No, those descriptions weren’t strong enough—  _ Disgusting  _ man Dr. Tom Riddle was.

 

“Why?” She was quickly realizing that her voice sounded foreign to her ears. Raspy and raw, as if she hadn’t used her vocals in months.

 

“Be more specific, Hermione,” Tom tsked softly at her while his eyes made short work of evaluating her physical health. “Why,  _ what _ ?”

 

“You  _ know  _ what.” She retorted tiredly.

 

“Do I?” His hands shifted with his speech, knuckles brushing gently up her cheek bones before his fingers slipped into her hair. “My, my, I am afraid you must jog my memory then.”

 

“You staged my guilt in the murder investigation,” Hermione pulled away from his hold, watching lazily as her hair slipped through his fingers. “You  _ kidnapped  _ me.” She leaned back against the headboard, eyes closing as her head thumped against the wooden panel. “You had to know that Harry is going to be looking for me.”

 

“No one is looking for you,” The purr that emanated from his vocal cords gave her reason to pause. It was a dangerous sound and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand in protest. “I made sure of that.”

 

Hermione’s honey eyes opened and her brows creased in question as she turned to judge Tom’s expression. He was smiling and it distinctly reminded her of the look a predator would give its prey. Her stomach twisted, nausea building with acid on the palette of her tongue. “What did you do?”

 

He didn’t answer, instead he turned his attention towards the far wall, his smile widening at whatever it was he saw. Hermione’s curiosity got the best of her, she couldn’t stop herself from following his gaze.

 

She didn’t like what caught her eye.. 

 

Monitors littered the wall, each capturing a different image than the next. The colour drained from her face as she took in the details her curiosity branded her with.  The conference rooms where the behavioral science team debated their next move. Her office at the university. Even the bloody  _ morgue  _ was on display. 

 

And… her home.

 

Harry was there, stretched out across her bed with his face was buried in the sheets while he drifted through sleep. Remus and Sirius were in her living room, leaning over the countless papers spread across the coffee table. She realized quickly that they were searching through her notes.

 

She couldn’t help but wonder why.

 

Neither looked like they had slept, though, Sirius was in worse condition than the sandy haired man across from him. The bags under his eyes were dark, forming like a bruise he never received. His hand fisted into his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration… or perhaps it was desperation.

 

Hermione returned to take in Riddle’s dark form and stared in disbelief. There were so many questions rushing through her mind that she was choking. Shock— it  _ had _ to be shock. She wasn’t some bumbling idiot who found themselves speechless in the wake of danger. She was bloody Hermione Granger, the girl who asked question and learned the answers for fun.

 

But....but, Tom had been  _ watching  _ them this whole time. He had known their every move. He had played them as if he engineered their decisions himself.

  
  


“ _ You’re _ the leak,” It tumbled from her lips without her permission. Great, She couldn’t leave it there, she deserved an explanation and  _ needed  _ answers. “h-how is that even possible?” her pulse rate expanded with adrenaline as the excitement thumped through her system… excitement for an answer she never knew she needed. “You were in a  _ asylum _ .”

 

That faint giddiness overwrote her senses as she charted through the amount of planning it all must have taken. Tom Riddle had changed the events of their lives and he hadn’t even left his fucking cell.

 

“Why must you ask questions you already know the answers to?” Tom still wouldn’t look at her, something about the unmoving boy, curled tightly within her sheets was  _ far  _ more interesting. 

 

“Why must you be such an obnoxious prat?” Her eyes narrowed at the back of his head when cruel laughter shook his shoulders. 

 

“You and I both know, that is a false accusation,  _ Hermione _ .” 

 

“ _ Stop _ ,” She ground out. “Saying my name like that”

 

“ _ Hermione _ ,” It was a direct denial of her request, but the dark rumble of her name on his tongue sent shivers up her spin. “I savour the way your name rolls across my tongue and renders you into a quaking mess.” A smile was creasing the lines of his cheek, forcing her to bare witness to the dimples that took form there. “Then again, if you prefer, I could whisper it against your skin and savour something else entirely.”

 

“No thanks.” Her arms crossed over her chest unconsciously covering herself. She wasn’t sure why, he still hadn’t bothered to look at her. “I would rather—”

 

“Do you know how Mr. Potter sounds when he moans out your name?” He looked at her from the corner of his eye and Hermione quivered when they flashed brightly in the glare of the monitors. “ _ I do.” _

 

She froze, heart lodged in her throat as she stared wide eyed at the man in front of her. Her heart thundered in the silent room around her, deafening her to all else. There was only Tom… and this  _ vivid _ image him while he watched Harry pleasure himself in her bed. It was a horrid thought, but it lit her blood up like gasoline to a flame.

 

Her mouth opened to speak, grasping for words that wouldn’t come. The very idea that Riddle would enteraint his cruel humour with such an intimate moment had stolen the words from her tongue.

 

“Are you curious?” Hermione flinched when Tom finally returned his attention to her. 

 

She couldn’t answer, her throat had gone dry causing each breath to scrape against her throat.  _ Yes _ . She swallowed thickly and forced a broken sound from her mouth. “N-no.”

 

“Oh, Hermione,” He was moving up the beds, each rolling movement was another damning moment she spent wilting under his predatory gaze. She pressed back into the headboard, seeking freedom from his all knowing gaze. She could feel his icy-blues stripping her clean, wrenching every thought from her mind with his gaze alone. His hands splayed across her cheek while cool flesh of his hand created a shock comparison to the building heat that flushed her skin. “Such pretty  _ lies  _ you weave.”

 

Hermione was beginning to realize that there had never been a moment where there wasn’t a barrier between them, but now she realized the magnitude of that loss of protection. She felt bare, weak and defenceless against the storm that was Tom Riddle.

 

“Please—” Her voice broke when he straddled her thighs, anchoring her beneath his weight. Her panic had her hands closed around his wrists and pleading for release as his fists anchored in her hair.

 

“Tell me the truth this time, Hermione,” She shivered when his words brushed her jawline and made due with his promise; her name had never sounded so wrong before… a sin  _ waiting _ to be committed. “Tell me you want to how he sounded as he buried himself in your scent and moaned your name.”

 

She sucked a gasp deep into her lungs as Tom’s lips met the flesh below her ear. Hermione’s chest rose to bow her back the second he pulled the lobe of her ear between his teeth. It took everything in her to stifle the moan building in the back of her throat. 

 

It was too much.

 

“Don’t you want to know the sound of his hand brushing against his jeans as he attempted to hold his desires at bay?” One hand snaked to the back of her neck and yanked until her head couldn’t  go back further. “Don’t you want to know the  _ defeated _ sigh that passed his lips when he finally took his cock a—”

 

“Stop it!” 

 

His free hand slammed into her throat before he clamped down on either side, slowly her blood flow rather than her airways. Tom returned to his full, seated height, bearing down at like a frightening shadow. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. 

  
  


They remained that way, staring darkly at one another while his hands remained around her throat until her breathing slowed. He shifted and it pulled at something raw from deep inside her. In fact... every move Tom made was suddenly  _ intoxicating _ . 

 

Hermione was beginning to crave more. 

 

He smiled down at when a low whine sang from her vocals. “That would be your brain screaming for substance, Hermione.” his laughter hummed across her skin, erecting the hairs upon her flesh until she was rendered useless. “As I am sure you know, once the brain becomes deprived of oxygen its creates a lucid state of mind.” His hand was tracing a gentle line down her sternum, sinking low until he reached her navel. 

 

Inside Hermione knew that her heightened bodily needs was due to the accumulation of carbon dioxide in her brain. She  _ knew  _ that _ …  _ but that knowledge seemed miniscule in comparison to the warmth of his breath on her lips. 

“I’ll ask you again, Hermione,” He lower his mouth over her own, before he spoke again. “Aren't you curious?”

 

“ _ Yes _ .”

 

“Good girl.” His face brightened with triumph before he granted her salvation and released her throat from his hold. 

 

The world came back slowly, but the more it came back the more she found herself struck by this exchange. It seems that they had reverted to an old game of truths… except Tom upped the ante. It was dangerous and telling. She hated everything about it.

 

“Now, back to the matters at hand,” Tom removed himself from the bed and returned his attention to the events unfolding on the screen. “ _ Think _ , Hermione, I have faith in your abilities to grasp the  _ obvious _ .”

 

Her eyes narrowed as she dug holes into his spine. The urge to kill him set in. Arrogant  _ bastard _ . Hermione knew she could dig into the living ledger of his plans to find the answers but, thanks to him, her mind was still a little fuzzy around the edges. 

 

Not that he cared how drugs and asphyxiation bloody affected her thought process. The drugs had kept her calm —for the most part— and the asphyxiation...well…

 

That was best ignored.

 

A low growl rumbled through her chest before she started to walk through the events that brought her to this very moment. She began the night she went running to his cell when the demand for recognition and understanding fueled her actions. To the morning she woke up in a haze, his words haunting her dreams like an unwelcome tick.

 

One night haunted her nightmares in particular. A night where the shower curtain trembled against his finger in a silent goodbye. Fear had stacked itself across her vertebrae when she stumbled out of the bathroom. 

 

She wondered if he had sat at the bottom of the stairs, listening to her call out to him. She wondered if he had to fight the urge to answer.

 

It dawned on her then that Tom walked her home like he knew the blueprints it was built upon. Her eyes flickered upwards, catching the monitors for a brief second before she decided that he probably  _ did _ have the actual blueprints.

 

He knew exactly where to plant cameras and remain unnoticed.

 

Hermione’s mind was beginning to wander again; had he taken one of those screens with him, that day? Did he sit back with a grin as he watched her react to his message? Had he watched as the police ransacted her home and found—

 

Tom’s ‘ _ work of art’ _ bled into her mind’s eye. An ugly stain she  _ knew _ the answer without confirmation; he wouldn’t have missed seeing that for the world. 

 

Slowly she looked back at the dark man in front of her and discovered that he was already smiling at her. It  _ wasn’t _ a reassuring look. It was a dark promise and morbid amusement melting into a single grin. 

 

“Dante’s inferno,” Hermione winced at the rawness that had been the byproduct of Tom’s hold. Her cheeks heated at the mere thought of his fingers biting against the thin flesh awoke something she wanted to remain dormant, so she looked away the second those words began to leave her. She refused to give into the pleasure humming through her veins, she moaned like a bitch in heat for him once already and that far to many times does it to okay.

 

Hermione cleared her throat quickly and forced herself to continue. “Lestrange was lingering in the ninth ring, cut at the hips much like the devil who was frozen waist deep in the sinners lake.”

 

“Very good,” He sounded closer now. Her honey eyes shot up when the bedsheets hissed against his long legs. To her horror, Tom was now perched at the edge of the bed, only a hands reach from her.

 

“What else, Hermione.” His breath fanned across her face, warming the skin when the blood had fled her cheeks.

 

“The fourth round was filled in,” She swallowed, throat still dry from earlier, she was practically parched. She didn’t like it. The man looked at her like he wanted to devour everything she was and could be. Actually, Hermione had no doubt that it was Tom’s every intention to do just that. “Labeling him a traitor to his lord.”

 

“ _ And _ ,” Tom elongated the word, rolling it like a purr off his tongue. His other hand was starting to creep up her shoulder, distracting her thoughts instantly. “what does that tell you?”

 

“You…” 

 

Gods, why was it so hard to breath breath around him? 

 

“Y-you have people working for you…” She sucked in a deep breath after she finally choked out the words. Her heart was thundering passed the light sedation he had slipped into her veins and demanded her attention.

 

“You have strings attached to people in the asylum, that’s…that’s how you got out.” Hermione forced herself to continue, pushing herself past the onslaught of panic.  “That's  _ also  _ why Albus has been switching the out behavioral team with his old group. They were the only people he could trust when it came to you.”

 

“Have you come to a conclusion of this grand play,” His head dipped to the side and his grin softened as his thumb traced the line of her jaw. “Or can you not contemplate your status in all of this?”

 

The world slowed around her and her heart plummeted into a cold darkness.. She wanted to tear her eyes from his own and stare into the monitor until it proved her wrong. She already knew the answer. She had realized that every one of those cameras had one thing in common the moment she saw them.  _ Her, _ but there was  _ one  _ thing that was different… one that wasn’t like the others.

 

The  _ morgue _ .

 

He killed her— not physically of course, but as far as everyone else was concerned… she was  _ dead _ .

 

Hermione slapped his hand from her face when he continued to prod her. She didn’t like him touching her after... Well. She suppressed a groan and pushed that terrible thought back where it belonged. She had more important things to think about.

 

So many things about this didn’t make sense. How had he been able to get away with staging her death? How did he get someone so close in looks  to her that people she had known all her life had not been able to tell the difference?

 

“Her body had been tucked away, waiting, like a blooming flower ready to be plucked.” His laugher turned her blood to ice. ”To think that they would be so careless to overlook a Jane Doe that looked suspiciously similar to you. For months she was carefully preserved and  _ modified _ .” 

 

Hermione’s stomach rolled. Tom spoke like he knew her thoughts— like he had pried his way into her very being and was beginning to understand how she ticked. The nausea only intensified when he continued.  “Filing her teeth to match your own took more time then really necessary. In fact, I found myself immensely irritated that I had to wait so long to act out my plans.”

 

Horror began to drown her, filling up her lungs until every breath hurt. He planned it  _ all _ . Riddle sat in his cell and waited until his…  _ minions,  _ filled in the blanks. She couldn’t imagine how long they spent searching for this unfortunate soul that took her place, or what they did to ensure no one would recognize the subtle differences.

 

“Any other details were looked over and hidden by the acting mortician. It is disgustingly easy to get people to accept the words of a  _ ‘professional’ _ .” Tom pulled himself from the bed while his words fell into a soft chuckle. “They used to overlook me for those exact reasons. ‘ _ Doctor Tom Marvolo Riddle _ : the  _ youngest _ surgeon to ever walk those hospital floors. The most caring man they knew’.”

 

The click of glass had Hermione instantly searching for his hands but his back blocked any view she had hoped to find, but something inside her began to swell. “T- _ Tom _ … what--”

 

“It must be exhausting to live life so ignorantly.” Tom cut her off before she could question his actions. His body turned with lazy poise so he could looked back at her. Her heart sunk because she could swear she watched his eyes bloom into a murderous red. “I am sure you understand.”

 

_ Nope _ .

 

Hermione didn’t understand— she didn’t  _ want  _ to, nor did she want to spend another second in the same room as him. Her fingers closed around the tubes that pumped substances into her veins and yanked them free of her skin. She pushed back desperately, seeking out the safety that the other side of the bed could bring her. 

 

Fear shot through her spine before she realized how weak her muscles had become. The mere act drained her body, her muscles aching as if she had been swimming  against a current.

 

How long had she been there?

 

She was about to seriously regret her choices, as gravity began to take hold— she was  _ falling _ and her muscles were too weak to catch her. The hand that snagged around her ankle, doused her in a sense of relief… only for it to be peppered with panic. Shit. Shit—

 

_ Shit _ !

 

A scream quaked through her chest when he dragged her back, pulling her closer to inevitable doom. She would rather fall at this point. She kicked at his wrists but, regretfully the attack did nothing to deter him

 

“I do believe we already had this conversation earlier,  _ Hermione _ ,” tar was seeping through his words until it latched itself around her ankles. “and I don’t take kindly to repeating myself.”

 

Hermione felt the fear beginning to settle in her bones. She turned without a second thought, digging her fingers into the bed with the hope of pulling herself free. The chill of the room bit into her hip, causing Hermione to freeze. She looked down in shock with the overwhelming urge to right her nightgown rather than escape. 

 

Riddle had hiked the fabric up and over her hips, exposing her in every way she didn’t want to be exposed. His actions weren’t sexual, simply a deed that, in his mind, had to be done but it caused her to panic nonetheless. 

 

How could she not?

 

The needle sunk into her thigh before she could really process the fact he moved. A whimper fell from her lips as the burn seeped through her blood and slowed her thoughts.

 

“That is enough excitement for one day.” his voice rumbled like a silent echo and she could hear it morph into a gentle shush that trickled passed his lips. “Sleep well, Hermio--”

 

His words became a dull hum… her whole world turned black.

 


	15. Poisoned Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo land of the liviing; I have retuuuuuurned!  
> I am sooo sorry for the long wait, Ive been dealing with a lot  
> Thank you to all of you who put up with me
> 
> Okay, Thank you both Kyoki777 and weestarmeggie for reading the story over and editing it for my dumb ass! I would have been seriously stuck without you all!  
> I love you beautiful ladies.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

###  Chapter 14

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_“You need to spend time crawling alone through shadows to truly_

_appreciate what it is to stand in the sun.”_

****

**_― Shaun Hick_ **

****

**~*~**

****

A long groan fell from Sirius’ lips as he curled into himself, his position on the floor had yet to do anything more than make his damn legs go numb. “ _Fuck_ , Kitten,” He grumbled as he shook out his legs in a desperate attempt to regain sensation. “The state of your knees must have been absolutely horrid.”

****

His fingers pushed through his long waves, racking back his frustration as he forced himself to look back down at the havoc surrounding him. All of Hermione’s personal files were scattered before him. Her handwriting stretched from paper to paper like a web of riddles he had yet to discover the code for. This was how she operated, this was how she spent her days, so if he was going to find out what she knew then he had to do it the way she did.

****

“Good God,” Sirius’ head shot up to find Remus stumbling through the main door with drinks in hand. His warm amber eyes were wide and his brows were drawn in confusion. “what the bloody _hell_ are you doing?”

****

There should have been no reason to, but the very sight pulled a smile to his lips. It was a very familiar scenario. One he himself lived through...once. Such an odd predicament he was in to be reminiscing about it now.

****

“Hoping to win the lottery.”

****

Sirius’s smile grew when soft laughter filled Remus’s chest. It had been a while since either of them had found the energy to much more than stare blankly at these damn pages. It was encouraging to find something new amidst the chaos.

****

“Any luck with that?”

****

“About as much luck as my knees found comfort.”

****

“That bad?” Remus lowered himself at the edge of the circle, hand extended so Sirius could take the coffee without having to struggle further for it. A soft sigh fell from Sirius’  lips as he accepted the beverage and curled it into his chest for comfort.

****

“I thought if I got into her mind that maybe, just _maybe_ ,” He scoffed bitterly. “That I could figure this out but―but―” A loud frustrated groan fell from Sirius' lips, falling from his soul like the wail of a forgotten mutt. His brain had been throbbing ever since he started this wacky endeavor into Hermione’s thoughts. “Fuck I swear Hermione never _stopped_ thinking; there are so many notes here that I don’t even know where to begin!”

****

“Here,” Remus dropped into a seated position and gave the circle around Sirius a quick glance over. “Why don’t we start from the newest entries and work our way back?”

****

“You sure you want to get yourself caught up in this Moony?” Sirius chuckled. “There is so much work here that you might not see your precious wife ag―”

****

“Shut up and tell me where to start, Pads.”

****

“Well, if you talking about absolutely _‘newest’_ entries they over there.” Sirius bumped his head to the side with a sigh in order to indicate where the said notes remained untouched. He had yet to work up the courage to open the box in question, the blood-stained pages where hard to look upon and not see the horrible things that had been committed to her poor soul.

****

All of it, her death― Harry’s pain, just... brought back so many memories.

****

“ _Sirius_ ,” with a voice full of sadness his tired honey eyes turned to the box. “You can’t keep acting like that day never happened.”

****

_His feet sounded hollow as he marched through the yellow caution tape and the pitied glances of colleagues. His heart thundered through his chest, growing louder with each step he took. Fearful to know, but his heart yearned to see the boy who couldn’t be moved._

****

Sirius would never forget receiving that phone call; hearing with his own ears the horror they had condemned Hermione too. No one had dared to move Harry from where they found him that day. How could they?

****

It was they who _stole_ that life from him, They who set this plan in motion… so how could they dare?

****

_“Harry?” Sirius stepped around the door frame, eyes set on the back of the young man who sat silently on his knees. His God-Son made no more to acknowledge him, his eyes were too captivated by whatever horror that was set before them.“Ha-”_

****

_His voice faltered and his chest seized violently when his grey eyes finally dared to drift upwards. The room was littered in bodies, some seated neatly like the patrons of a play while the select few who stood in the focus of it all… mocking them._

****

Sirius’ jaw clenched, forcing him to scrub a hand across his unshaven scruff in an attempt to relieve the tension there. Even the day he lost James and Lily could have never amount to the pain of watching his son relive that what he did all those years ago.

****

Perhaps it was because he physically understood the turmoil Harry was experiencing, but the fact there was absolutely _nothing_ he could do to prevent this hardship for the boy made it so much worse.

****

“I know.”

****

_The tears that clouded the green of Harry’s eyes is what had done him in. Sirius didn’t speak a word as his knees crashed into the floor below and roughly pulled his son into his arms. He knew that forcing Harry to look away was what was going to break him; He knew the second she left his sight that he would fight to find her once again, but he couldn’t let Harry torture himself anymore._

****

He couldn’t let his son die with her.

****

It was like something clicked in him that Sirius had never seen before… and that something that demanded to find life in her because it couldn’t exist without her presence. Harry attacked him. _Harry_ . His sweet, gentle, Harry… actually _attacked_ him. Not only that, but he managed to almost destroy the entire crime scene in his desperation to reach her.

****

“I don’t know what to do, Moony.” He laughed bitterly, glaring down at the pages surrounding him. She would have known what to do, she had always known how to help his boy.

****

“We start where it matters most.”

****

Slowly Sirius looked up at the man across from him, smiling weakly as he reached out for the evidence bags being offered out to him. Going back to that day was difficult… and Sirius was frightened of what he might learn from the papers within.

****

“Where it matters most.” He repeated to himself, hopeful that the repetition would make the resolve he lacked.

****

The elder Black sucked in a steady breath and began leading his way through the individual paper’s that had been found spread out on her bed at the crime scene. They had been planted there by Riddle, set up like a display for them to find.

****

There was something there, something that even _Riddle_ wanted them to find… he had just been too stubborn to look for it.

 

_** D ** **u** **m** **b** **ledo** **r** **e** _

_**** _

_ **HA** Who’s guilty now! _

****

Sirius blinked dumbly at the evidence bag in his hand. Had he just...

****

“Holy _shit_.”

****

**~*~**

****

Sweet honey was surrounding him, helping him drift through that slow transition of rest to wakefulness. Harry stirred, burying his face deeper into the sheets encasing him before rolling into his stomach with the intent of sleeping further.

****

His body did not have the same proclamation on the matter.

****

A low hiss fell from his tongue when his cock throbbed unapologetically for his choice of position.  His hips pushed forward and prompted for further distraction which ignited a curse to bubble across his tongue.

****

“Damn it,” Harry reached one arm out, patting the covers in search of another source of heat. He knew that a good cuddle would put him right out again so his sex drive could go to hell and be content with what little it got. “ _Mione_?”

****

His brow creased in confusion when he found her side of the bed empty. A disappointed sigh fell from his lips as he continued to absentmindedly knead the empty half of the bed. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she was up before him, she normally was.

****

She couldn’t have gotten very far, but to find her he would first have to get up. Harry hummed in defeat before he forced a heavy eye open to observe his surroundings.

****

Harry squinted hard into the low light and let his emerald gaze shift over the room. There were clothes spewed across the floor and a general untidiness that confused him. Something hollow swelled in the heart of his chest and the longer he looked the more that abyss throbbed. Hermione would _never_ allow her room to become such a mess.

****

Harry laid there until that confused glimmer slowly morphed into a glare; the answers began to settle over him.

****

_Right_.

****

There were no words for what became unleashed from beneath his skin then: just a haze of red that made his general world vibrate with no sense or reason.

****

She should have been there, perched against the headboard with a book in her lap and with unruly curls haloing her warm face. Her lips would have been quirked upright with her intrigue while her caramel eyes scratched their way across the page.

****

That’s where she _should_ have been, but now he was left with the fading memory of the woman he had _failed_.

****

He wasn’t quite sure when it occurred, but his fingers had wrapped around the tumbler he left discarded on the bedside table and he pivoted, twisting his body upright before the glass was tossed across the room with a thunderous roar.

****

It wasn’t right that she wasn’t here and he was! It wasn’t right that he was laying in this bed alone, sulling her possessions and space!

****

Nothing about it was right… and, it was all his fault.

****

**_~*~_ **

****

Her breath hit the air, bellowing out to mimic a fog that could ripple in the river’s reflection. She watched as it disappeared in the black abyss that surrounded her. Her fingers brushed gently against smooth walls as she followed a hollow song down this dark path. She couldn’t remember why— or even how— she got here, but she couldn’t turn away. The song echoing across these stone floors was drawing her near, crying her name with foreign sounds.

****

Hermione winced when her naked feet sank, dipping below a flooding surface until the freezing liquid lapped around her ankles. Her eyes dropped and eyed her mirror image as it stared up at her with curiosity. She should have been scared when it smiled back at her, hand extended for her reach, but she only found herself wondering why it wanted her hand at all.

****

_Take it, Hermione._

****

She hesitated, drawn to the breath that pressed against her bare shoulder.

****

_Take it._

****

It urged between the blistering kisses it placed against her skin.

****

Her reflection drew closer as the wandering lake splashed against her calves. She watched as the black liquid clung to her white gown and weighed her down. Her breath was getting heavier and the fog of her own creation settled against the river.

****

She leaned back into the firm body that whispered sweetly into her ear, neck extended to the side in silent submission. It was laughing, welcoming her compliance with cruelty. He was hurting her. She didn’t mind, the tell-tale sound of blood dripping into the water’s surface was just as hypnotic as the song that had first drawn her down this dark path.

****

A creak broke the spell by swallowing its sound with its own. Hermione looked up, peering into the faint light slipping through its open frame. She squinted and dug into the arms draped processively around her waist so that she might see what was beyond that blinding rays.

****

Dark flecks floated through the white gaze in a mocking snow. Sweeping down the light and floating on the surface of her water below. She followed one's path, searching for the origins of this strange thing which existed in the world beyond her own.

****

Flowers?

****

Petals of purple stars swelled and melted into the water around her thighs. She knew these flowers… and she knew they poisoned water.

****

Hermione reared back desperate to escape when she finally understood her reflections malicious smile. Her back knocked hastily into the hard body behind her while nails bit into his clothed skin. She kicked out, lifting herself with the sheer force she applied to his arm, pulling— crying for escape.

****

_I am made bone but born of the earth._

****

A grating cry fell from her lips as her head fell back against her shadow’s shoulder, back arching in a desperate plea for release.

****

_A creator of those to be._

****

Its nose ran up her neck, drinking in the fearful scent that seeped from her pores.

****

_A speaker of snakes who tastes the knowledge he has forbidden of me…_

****

An angry scream rattled her vocals while her legs kick back against her captor. It did not bow to her blows, it simply shackled her to its side with no chance of escape.

****

**_What_ **.

****

The water was rising, jaunting against her waist impatiently.

****

**_Am_ **.

****

Her reflection smiled wildly, hands reaching up to breach the water’s edge. Hermione could only watch in horror as her reflexion melted past the surface and bound her wrists with its bonelike fingers.

****

Her shadow released her then; set her free so that her reflection could finish what he would not. It was disturbing to realize that it was by her own hand, that she would be dragged deep into the water’s current-- pulled into a place where even light couldn’t find her.

****

**_I?_ **

****

She blinked into the darkness, searching for the terrible creature who’s nails dug into her wrists. The water around her was obscured by darkness and an array of chocolate curls that tended to be the bane of her existence.

****

A frenzied howl released air into the compressed space around her, pushing the water-logged curls from her face when her hands could not. Then she caught it. A flash of blue in the black water, caught in a mocking halo of purple flowers, was the ringlets of her reflection— black as the water around them, framing a face pale with death.

****

It smiled a terrible smile and cupped Hermione’s cheeks sweetly.

****

“ _What am I, Hermione?_ ” It whispered softly.

****

Her brows drew together in confusion, mouth opening to question it’s words only to choke on the liquid surrounding them. Panic seized Hermione’s heart, throat burning on the water currently stealing the oxygen from her blood. Hands locked into her reflections wrists and pulled, feet kicking blindly into the water.

****

She couldn’t breathe.

****

“ _What am I_ ?” Its smile fell into a twisted sneer, lips splitting to expose broken teeth, some filed finely down into a haunting reminder. “ _What am I_?” It screamed.

****

The creature's fingers where prying Hermione’s mouth open, demanding words that she could not speak. She jerked violently when the action drew a sharp inhale of poisonous waters into her lungs, and breathed it out with a broken: “ _You are_ —“.

****

A gasp sputtered from her lungs, forcing her chest to arch towards the heavens in a forlorn prayer but her fingers dug down, sinking into the delicate sheets surrounding her once resting figure. Whiskey eyes were cutting lines into the roof above, picking apart the fine details just in case she found flaws in her reality.

****

She was in bed. She tested the sheets once more; grazing its surface with a shaky hold in order to find relief. She was in bed… so she had to have been dreaming.

****

Hermione exhaled, releasing the sourness of fear from her soul to disperse into the empty room. She was shaking: struck by the events unfolding in her subconscious mind. Slowly, she pressed the heels of her palm into her sockets and waited for the violent quake to leave her body.

****

_Nightmares_.

****

Such odd things, dreams were— Nightmares in particular. When humans dream, no one is quite certain what occurred; there where many theories but none were proven. In school, she accepted that dreams where parts of your life being relieved, mundane things you find in everyday reality, simply because it was what she was taught to accept.

****

Her life had not been ‘mundane’ as of lately, it had been rather horrifying and her sleep now reflected that. This was not the way she wanted to experience the truth of that little phenomenon.

****

_Smash_.

****

Hermione jolted, heart raising to attention at the sudden intrusion of noise. There was something wrong about it. It was distant—buzzing against her ears on a separate frequency than the rest of her world; eerier than it should have been.

****

She shifted, following the sound with no apparent cause. It was getting louder, more violent like someone was—

****

Her heart stopped as the largest monitor flickered hellishly against her widened gaze.

****

“Harry?” A sob caught in her throat as she watched the young man turn, hand closing around the nearest lamp before launching it across the room. Rage had turned his lax presence ridged, setting this once timid soul into a monster she had never seen before.

****

Hermione pushed herself up hesitantly, mind numb to the shaking of her stiff limbs, all she could see was the man standing in the chaos of her room.

****

“Oh, Harry.” A hand lifted to cover the gasp trembling against her lips. She looked away from him only a long enough to catch her bedroom door slamming open in panic. Sirius didn’t stop to absorb the condition of the room and simply charged in to contain the fit of rage Harry had descended into.

****

“ _Harry_ !” His arms hooked around his godson’s waist and locked his arms into place. “ _Harry, stop_!”

****

She was scrambling, anxiously pushing passed the weight in her misused limbs to bring herself closer to the scene in front of her. Hermione felt useless sitting in this bed watching these events unfold. She had to do… _something_!

****

She should have known better, expected the reaction her body would ultimately give the second she pressed her feet into the floor below, but she couldn't bring herself to see passed Harry’s suffering.

****

The floor was cold against her feet, slipping into her soles for the comfort of her warmth. She shuffled forward, hands fisted in the sheet as she forced weight onto her legs. She gave one last shove, determined to be free of the mattress below her despite the struggle it took to even get to its ledge.

****

Hermione took to her feet so she could be closer to the image of her manic friend; then, just as quickly, her stability snapped like a twig beneath the weight of the ocean.

****

Her knees hit the surface first and cracked sickly as a hot flame raced up her nerves. She screamed; loud enough for it to make her voice crack, but not long enough to draw any unneeded attention. A fist wedged itself between her teeth, determined to capture her own pain with the tightening of its curl.

****

There was shouting coming from the monitor, desperation in a plea. Crashing. _Fighting_. Hermione curled in on herself, eyes clenched shut in protest to the overwhelming scream of her nerves. She needed to ignore it, she needed to see, she needed to be closer!

****

Her palms hit the floor and pressed. There was a disconnection from her brain and neurons, an effect of natural decay that left her muscles confused by the strenuous movement. Sluggish and weak. The strongest flex of her muscles felt little more than the slightest flicker of a tendon.

****

She wanted to cry out in anger, frustrated and torn but the uselessness of her own body. How long had she been unconscious and more importantly… how long had Harry been suffering from the guilt of her _‘death’_?

****

Not much longer if she had anything to say about it.

****

Hermione twisted, fisting her hands into the bedside to help offset her weight and pushed. She was going to stand up by the sheer determination of a snarl if she had to. It was agonizingly slow, each creak her bones made in protest was matched by a grunt of stubbornness. She was going to get out of this place if it was the last thing she ever did and she refused to let her body be the thing to hold her back.

****

Her eyes shot up and analyzed the bedside table as her next source of support. It would work, it had to—

****

“ _Enough, Harr_ —”

****

“ _Remus, stay there_!”

****

Deep Caramel eyes shot up before she could finish catching herself on the table’s edge. She stumbled, legs threatening to buckle under her weight before she managed to balance herself out… but she could hardly believe what she was looking at.

****

Harry had Sirius pinned under him, first raised to strike his Godfather where he lay. There was a madness in him that Hermione couldn’t shake, perhaps it had been the sickly gleam in his green eyes but whatever it was… it was _not_ Harry.

****

What had To— Riddle _done_?

****

“ _It’s okay, lad. It’s okay to be angry. I was angry too—_ ” Sirius raised his hands in surrender with a heartbroken curl on his lip. His voice sounded as broken as the tear-ridden gleam in his grey eyes. “ _So,_ **_so_ ** _angry after I lost them._ ”

****

Harry didn’t speak, but the hand fisted in his Godfather's shirt was shaking.

****

“ _I was angry at the world and I hated everyone living in it…_ ” Watching those tears fall from Sirius’ eyes made the air around her was feel heavier than her own limbs. She had never seen this man leave the shell he had harbored behind and it was almost unbearable to witness. “ _because_ **_they_ ** _were no longer were._ ”

****

Hermione leaned back until she was practically sitting on the table. The death of Harry’s parents was taboo in Sirius’ presence, too much suffering for a broken man to handle. He had been the one to find them— the one to cling to Harry’s weeping form and shield the child from his parent’s suffering.

****

For Sirius to be talking about it again, meant something unthinkable had to occur and she feared what it meant.

****

“ _But most of all I hated_ **_myself_ ** _, because I hadn’t been there when they needed me._ ”  A soft sob fell from Harry’s lips, drawing his body taut with denial. She could see that he wanted to act out, he wanted to fight and hurt so that he could prove his Godfather wrong. “ _And that’s okay too._ ”

****

There was a pause, a silence of denial that Sirius was almost too scared to shatter.

****

_“But, what happened to her… that wasn’t your fault, Harry._ ” Sirius continued as he reached up to finally capture Harry’s fist with the gentleness of his fingertips; his godson did not react. “ _The only person who can shoulder that blame is the man who did it to her._ ”

****

“ _I…_ ” His shoulders fell and with a heavy slump, Harry dropped his hand to take solace in the weakness of his Godfather’s mask. “ **_abandoned_ ** _her. I left her alone in that place knowing that he… that he—_ ”

****

Harry couldn’t say it. He couldn’t verbalize whatever horror Dr. Tom Riddle had composed of her _‘corpse’_.

****

“ **_We_ ** _, my boy._ ” Sirius correctly sadly. “ _We left her there, we all did._ ”

****

“ _I—_ ”

****

“ _You are_ **_not_ ** _alone, Harry._ ”

****

Hermione pivoted quickly, peeling her eye away from the scene unfolding on the screen before her. She had to go. She had to find a way to leave this place and go right whatever wrong Tom Riddle had created.

****

To do that she first would have to find a way to stop the quivering in her legs anytime she added weight on her weak bones. Each step was a battle, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was a battle that she would win.

****

Hermione looked up, sizing up the gap between the door and the bed before cursing under her breath. Why the hell was this bedroom so large? She was only one small woman, so why the hell did Riddle put her in a room with so much space? There was enough room for…

****

She halted so quickly that she almost fell.

****

_No_.

****

Her eyes began etching grooves into the walls surrounding her, searching for hints as she went. Well stacked papers and books decorated a well-used desk to her side; medical books to be more exact… and a beautiful, unfinished sketch of her unconscious form.

****

The picture looked fairly new, so the desk had been used recently but the pencils were entirely absent. Apparently, Riddle thought she couldn’t be trusted with sharp objects, no matter how unconscious she looked.

****

Smart Man.

****

She quickly caught a wardrobe in the distant corner, close enough that she could bound her way across the space separating them. She needed to know that she was wrong. Hermione drew in a slow breath, expanding her chest to prepare herself for the painful journey forward. The first step on her own was the worst, it made her mind scream and her chest tighten with the desire to sob. She pushed. She ignored the pain lighting her blood aflame until she came crashing against the firm wardrobe.

****

Fingers reached out, clutching the handle of the wardrobe as if her life depended on it than hesitated. The fear of what lay behind these doors kept her frozen on the spot, but… she _needed_ to know.

****

The wardrobe was stocked with fine suits and pressed button-ups. Beautifully crafted clothes that definitely belonged to a _man_.

****

Fuck, Riddle had been sharing _his_ room with her. A shiver raced up her spine until she found herself dropping onto the floor. That meant he had been sleeping next to her unconscious body every night for—she _still_ didn’t know how long she had been here.

****

Hermione felt like an idiot; she should have known by the monitors' presence, really. Riddle _obviously_ had motivations for those contraptions other than just using them to get under her skin; though she was sure it was a rather nice bonus to watch her squirm for him.

****

_Bastard_.

****

A heavy sigh fell from her chest before she returned to glare at the wardrobe, the damn thing was supposed to reassure her. Not— Her head dipped to the side, blinking with curiosity as she caught the distinct edge of a decorative box hidden in the bottom corner. It was a pretty thing, not too extravagant but large.

****

She couldn’t help but wonder what was inside.

****

Teeth snagged her lower lip as she tossed a look over her shoulder. Curiosity was bubbling in the heart of her chest, boiling over the edges of her restraint. There was a chance there was something inside that she could use as a weapon, something to help her escape, but there was also the chance she could find something she didn’t like.

****

Well… she supposed there couldn’t be _too_ much harm in looking.

****

She would have smacked herself for that idiotic thought had she not of already taken ahold of the mysterious box. Slowly she lifted the lid and peered in. She knew that digging through a serial killer’s personal effects was probably the stupidest thing she had ever done and yet… here she was; looking anyway.

****

The first thing that caught her eye was the book, bound by warm dark-brown leather and gold clasps. It looked well used, aged by time and worn down by whomever it belonged to. She leaned in, eager to catch the name branded into the leather but frowned when she realized it was being masked by antique jewelry.

****

The smallest was a ring, which was an interesting little piece. The gold stood out against the black stone it clutched gently between its arms, held out as an offering to the gods. The square cut gem was the oddest, and probably the most beautiful, precious gem she had ever seen before; it’s clear walls where tainted, swirling with a glimmering smoke that had been captured behind its diamonds walls.

****

The largest was a locket which embodied a snake trapped behind amber. There were runes circling the creature but they were almost uneligible behind the golden gemstone. She brushed the edge of her nails softly against the stone, testing its surface with a wondrous graze.

****

The other two objects where covered, wrapped in old rages that looked untouched in quite some time. It was probably best to not disturb those, so she returned her gaze to the two resting upon the book.

****

These objects made her feel uneasy, though she couldn’t be sure as to why. There was something _wrong_ about them… as if they didn’t belong in his perfect little world.

****

Hermione forced herself to swallow; It was a terrible, terrible idea… but She wanted to see who’s name branded this book theirs. Even more, she wanted to see what words were painted within that book and the life it experienced. Hermione inched her fingers under its spine and lifted slowly so that the jewelry remained undamaged when they slipped from the cover.

****

**_Tom Marvolo Riddle_ **

****

Her jaw set into a determined line and, without a second of hesitation, She shoved the diary under her arm and returned the box to its corner. She had no clue on how she planned to get out of here but she knew she was taking this little piece of information with her.

****

An unfiltered look into Dr. Riddle’s brain? Yeah, There was no way she was going to leave it behind.

****

Fuck, she just full of _terrible_ ideas lately.

****

**~*~**

****

Harry leaned back into his seat with a defeated sigh. He hated this room, this place where they slathered Hermione’s name in grime and let her rot away under their damning accusations. His emerald gaze skipped across the room, skipping across the closed blinds with an accusatory gaze.  This place would never contain anything good, it was a room of death; a place where they picked apart the details and even they condemned the fates of the innocent or guilty.

****

The very room where they had willingly sacrificed her to Dr. Riddle’s hands. A low groan fell from his tongue as Harry scrubbed his palms roughly across his face.

****

Why had he let Sirius and Remus convince him to come back here?

****

Quiet chatter began to filter into his seclusion and made him drop his hands from his face. He needed to understand their reasoning behind coming back to this place and he couldn’t do that until he listened to what they had to say first.

****

Sirius staggered into the room first and Harry could already feel his brow raised in question. Their arms were full. Both men had boxes of unknown files tucked tightly in their gold before they dropped them onto the table in front of him.

****

Sirius was smiling, proud of whatever accomplishment ultimately brought them here.

****

“What’s this for?” Harry eyed the box suspiciously; the files were dated from 1950-1968 so his growing confusion was beginning to deepen. What exactly had they found in Hermione’s notes that would have led them to a case from the 1950’s?

****

“She did it, Harry.” Sirius’s grin widened and he pulled the sealing tape from the package, exposing it once more the world around them.

****

“She did what?”

****

“We _think_ she solved the name being written by the riddles.” Harry’s chest seized as Remus answered in Sirius’s steed and pulled small an evidence bag out of his pocket. Remus smiled down at the paper fondly before he gently handed it over to Harry.

****

There was a paper inside, little notes that looked like they had been jaunted down in anger. Her beautiful script was sharp and jagged, the groves of the pen were almost unforgiving to the paper.

****

But, It is was most definitely Hermione’s writing.

****

_**D** **-** **O** **-** **L** **-** **E** **-** **M** _

_**** _

_Model?_

_Leopold     Elmo?_

_**** _

_Lode        Dom… inatrix?_

****

“Where did you get this?” Harry’s eyes flickered upwards briefly in order to catch a glance at the files Sirius was pulling from the old box.

****

There were countless files to dig through and somehow they had managed to connected them Hermione’s half-hearted _scribbles_.

****

“It was in found in the trash can at the crime scene.”  He answered quickly, grey eyes not daring to leave the files in front of him. “It had been overlooked as it was quite obvious that she had been drinking at the time they had been made—” His Godfather’s voice lulled into a pause, attention torn by the file in his hands

****

Harry’s lips twitched before he returned to the paper in question to absorb the nonsense she had scribbled onto the page.

****

He has almost forgotten how drunk she had been that night.

****

_Em old…_

_**** _

_Moldy old….. Geezers?_

_^ — haha  dumb_

_**** _

_….dumb?_

_**** _

_**D-** u- M -b-... L-E-D-O - _

_**** _

_Speaking of dumb, moldy, old geezers_

_**** _

_** D ** **u** **m** **b** **ledo** **r** **e** _

_**** _

_ **HA** Who’s guilty now! _

****

“ _Dumbledore_?” The page almost fell from his hands.

****

She wasn’t wrong, there were _a lot_ of corresponding letters in his name and the riddle answers. They also knew the killer wasn’t close to being finished. There was a chance that those missing letter could create a connection between the two.

****

“I understand that it _is_ rather similar and entirely possible,” Slowly Harry rested her note down on the table and settled his eyes on the cold case box mark ‘ _The Deathly Hallows’_. “But what makes you so certain that she was onto something?”

****

Sirius paused while his eyes scratched away the surface of the old case file in his fingers. He remembered these case’s being referenced back when he was still a student but they had never been solved, due to the killer’s complex behavior.

****

Whatever this was about, there was an obvious tension to the subject, so Harry waited patiently as his Godfather slowly unclutched his fist and pushed the file across the table towards him. ****  
** **

 

“How much do you know about Gellert Grindelwald?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun Dun DUUUUN!! ;)


End file.
